


Dogwood Days

by dizzyondreams



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, it's not one of those fics though dw, mentions of depression, vague mentions of self harm, yumikuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-01-04 00:59:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 61,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzyondreams/pseuds/dizzyondreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Historia and Ymir are two girls from different sides of the tracks who meet and find friendship and solidarity with each other. They also do a lot of growing up and come to realise that life sometimes doesn't work like the stories say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so. This is my first contribution to the SNK fandom I'm terribly sorry this is just.
> 
> Also this is incredibly AU solely because Ymir's level of homolust for Historia isn't through the fuckin roof right away. Straight, yeah. As if.
> 
> I dunno whatever I hope you enjoy my dumb fic I'll try to update it fairly regularly I don't think it's gonna be MASSIVELY long or anything like that so yeah
> 
> Long live the yuris [salutes]
> 
> (v v tiny mention of self harm like literally tiny but just in case!)

Historia was on one of her nightly drives. There was no moon, and she was far enough out of the city that it was almost pitch black. The only light for miles came from her headlights, dipping as she drove over the bumpy road. Autumn was beginning to close in, and she had the heat cranked in the car and a pair of gloves on over the worn smooth steering wheel. The inside of the car was stuffy and suffocating. When she cracked the window, the sharp autumnal air felt fresh and cool on her face.

On nights like this Historia liked to pull up onto the side of the road and sit on the bonnet of the car. Stargazing had been something she had always found relaxing - she could zone out for hours on end. She looked forward to the nights where she could get some space in her head. Living in the city made her feel claustrophobic, as if people were staring at her wherever she went.

It was chilly out, and had been getting colder for weeks. Historia didn‘t mind - she loved autumn, although she wished she’d brought a jacket or something. She was freezing in her school uniform, despite the warm bonnet of the car. She sat up and drew her knees up to her chest, head tipped back to look up at the sky. The car stereo was playing quietly, the dial turned to some late night indie station. She recognised the song playing but couldn‘t put a name to it. Something involving banjos, anyway.

She sat out for a couple of hours, thinking, before getting back into the car and driving slowly home.

\----------

Historia opened her eyes Saturday morning to Hanji’s face hovering worriedly over her. She immediately closed them again and turned onto her side.

“Hey.” Hanji said, “Historia.”

Historia grunted and pulled the covers up over her head, trying to block out the older woman‘s voice. Light from the crack in her curtains filtered through and she squinted until her eyes adjusted to the light. The light was turned pink by her red bed sheets and she let herself float between sleep and wakefulness, enjoying the soft light. 

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m going to be gone all day.” Hanji said, cutting through her dreaming. Historia made a weak shushing noise. “Something came up in work,” she said, quieter. “There’s money on the counter for dinner, I’ll see you when I get home.”

She heard Hanji walk to her bedroom door and trip over the bin just like she did every time. Just as she was about to leave the room, Historia spoke up.

“Hanji?” She mumbled, voice thick with sleep. She stuck her head out of the covers to meet Hanji’s gaze. She looked like she’d dressed for work in a hurry, her customary ponytail loose and falling down her neck, glasses crooked on her nose. 

Hanji paused by the door. “Yeah?”

“Did you manage to get in contact with dad yesterday?”

Her silence spoke volumes. Historia didn’t blame her for being reluctant to answer. Her father was always a touchy subject between the two of them. Her heart sunk. “He’s very hard to get a hold of, Historia, you have to realise that.” Hanji said, and Historia hated the tone of pity in her voice. “You know he’s got a lot going on at the moment, especially with the new church opening up in the north.”

When Historia didn’t reply, she sighed and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

Historia lay there until she heard the front door close, then rolled over onto her back to stare at the ceiling. She slung her forearm over her eyes and concentrated on breathing in and out. There was a weight on her chest like someone was sitting there.

She’d been trying to get in contact with her father all week, even to the point where she had tried to buy tickets to one of his shows, although that had proved fruitless. The moment she had let slip her name, she was put on hold and eventually disconnected. She wasn’t too surprised that her father didn’t want her there, but it still stung. Historia had only seen him a handful of times since she had moved. All she wanted was to have dinner with him one night.

She let out a shuddering breath, and angrily swiped away traitorous tears. “Fuck.” She muttered, and lay there for a minute, waiting for the tears to stop. She shouldn’t be upset over this, what else had she expected? The only family she had left wasn’t interested in seeing her. Hanji didn’t stick around to comfort her. She was alone, she was angry, and she had work in three hours. “Fuck.” She said again, a little louder.

She sat up, swung her legs over the side of the bed, slipped her glasses on, and contemplated the day ahead. She punched her pillow a few times, felt a bit better after that, and got up to make herself some breakfast.

She washed down a few slices of toast with a cup of coffee, grimacing as it burnt her throat on the way down. She considered taking a shower to try and clear the fog from her head, but couldn’t bring herself to make the effort. She let himself wallow for a little bit longer, before forcing herself to get up and get ready for work.

Historia worked part time in a coffee shop, and it was pretty hectic - she worked the weekend shift which was always busy. Luckily, she wasn’t the sort of person who got flustered too easily, and was actually pretty good at the job. The manager had gone to university with Hanji, or something, and he’d given Historia the job, no questions asked. She made a truly horrible cappuccino, but she was personable and friendly enough that it was often overlooked. 

She stayed in the shower for too long, zoning out with the water on way too hot, which meant that she was rushing when it was actually time to leave for work. She was in such a hurry that she didn’t realise it was pouring down until she’d left the house and locked the door behind her. She groaned and ran to her car with her coat over her head. Kinda appropriate actually, she thought darkly as she clicked the windscreen wipers on and pulled out into the road, the weather is definitely fitting how I’m feeling today.

The radio station was the same one that was playing the previous night, and Historia turned it up a little louder when she realised The Smiths were playing. She felt her mood lift slightly as she hummed along, but it was still pouring with rain as she pulled into the staff parking lot. It was all very well enjoying the rain from inside, but actually having to go outside in it was something Historia would have done without.

Work passed pretty slowly, but it was actually a welcome distraction, despite how much she had been dreading it. Historia was on the register for most of the day - it was almost mind-numbing, but worth it to listen to Annie, her fellow employee, complain about her manager, Levi, during the strange lull between the morning and afternoon rush.

Annie was in her year at school, pretty in an off-kilter kind of way. She had a sharp, strong nose, and wispy blonde hair always pulled back into a lazy bun on the back of her head. Her blue eyes were cold and half-lidded, and she gave off an air of complete contempt and iciness. Historia wasn’t sure why, but she liked her in an odd way. She couldn’t bring herself not to like her, despite her rather abrupt and often rude personality. 

“I bet he’s tidying up all the stock in the back again.” She muttered into her hand, elbow propped on the counter and chin resting on her palm. Her lazy eyes flitted around the coffeeshop, sizing up the customers and moving on.

“Maybe I should go see if he needs some help.” Historia wondered out loud to herself, and was surprised when Annie snorted.

“You can try, but you know what he’s like. It all has to be precise.”

Historia smiled gently. “Well, I suppose I should go try.”

Historia pushed open the door to the stockroom, almost colliding with Levi, who seemed to be doing an inventory check.

“Oh, sorry!”

The stockroom was a small room that opened out directly into the coffeeshop and was piled high with shelves containing everything they needed. On the other side of the room was a corridor which ended in a small, almost sterile kitchen and an adjacent locker room. Another door led out in the tiny staff car park. Everything was small, including all the employees. Historia wondered if it was a calculated move by Levi, or just one of those things. It was certainly something Hanji enjoyed with great amusement.

“Historia.” Levi’s tone was absent. “Could you help me move a couple of these sacks of coffee out to my car?”

Historia complied, reaching out for one of the bags, letting out a quiet ‘oof’ as she hefted it in her arms. It let out a pleasant aroma that was completely lost on her from months of becoming desensitized to coffee. Levi balanced his clipboard on a shelf nearby and lifted another sack over his shoulder with no apparent effort. Despite his stature, he was very strong. Historia had seen him carrying four huge sacks of coffee beans once without any visible strain.

“Stealing company property?” Historia asked lightly as they struggled down the narrow corridor. Or rather, she struggled. Levi looked like he was going for a particularly boring morning stroll. 

“It’s my bloody shop.” Levi deadpanned, and Historia nodded, smiling.

“I guess so.”

They walked in companionable silence to the back entrance, punctuated only by Historia’s breathing as she struggled with the heavy sack. Historia liked silence, and she liked sharing it with people who were easy to be around. She felt content, despite the morning’s bad start. Hesitantly, she told Levi about it as they loaded the coffee sacks into the trunk of his car. Historia hated talking about her problems concerning her father, but Levi always gave good advice. He was blunt enough to tell her straight what she needed to do, which she appreciated.

Once inside, Historia finished her story and took her glasses off to wipe the rain off them. She squinted up at Levi as he too came in from the rain.

“So, what do you think?” She said, slipping her glasses back on.

“He’s a busy man.” Levi said noncommittally, reaching in his pocket for his cigarettes before remembering he couldn’t smoke inside. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked down at Historia. “He’s working on a big project at the moment.”

“Yeah, a new church.” Historia mumbled, ducking her head, hands in her pockets. “I don’t get what’s so important that he can’t spare any time for me though.”

Levi shrugged. “Starting a new religion on his own has got to be time consuming, I suppose.” 

Historia ducked her head, embarrassed. She hated talking about her father’s phoney new religion with people. They always assumed that she was as much as a religious nut as he was, and steered clear of her when they learned her last name.

Levi lounged against one of the shelves, and Historia hovered uncertainly by the door, unsure whether that was her cue to get back to work. Levi’s expressionless eyes flitted over her quickly, and Historia met his gaze steadily. He was handsome, she supposed. He had fine, aristocratic features and straight black hair he styled in an inexplicable undercut. His eyes contradicted his delicate bone structure - grey and hard, with little to no emotion filtering through. Straight black brows pulled his expression into a near permanent expression of disgruntlement. He was intimidating, but Historia didn’t let herself be intimidated.

“Don’t be afraid to come to me if you need to talk.” Was all he said, giving Historia a flat look that she found hard to read. “God knows Hanji is damn near useless.” He muttered, casting his eyes to the floor to frown at a scuff in the bare concrete.

“I - yes. Okay, thank you.” She stumbled over her words, surprised. Levi gave her a sharp nod and picked up his clipboard again. She took that as the real cue to leave, and escaped to the front counter, where Annie was eating sugar out of the packets.

“I think I just had an accidental feelings jam with Levi.”

“Good for you.” Annie said absently.

“Yeah.” Historia breathed, busying herself with a few dirty mugs sitting on the side. “Weird.”

\-----------

Historia’s shift finished at five, and the prospect of the rest of the evening stretching out in front of her filled her with dread. Hanji wouldn’t be home until the early hours of the morning so she’d be alone in the house all night. The thought made her heart sink. As much as Historia enjoyed alone time, she hated feeling lonely.

Feeling low, she clocked out and went to go grab her stuff from the locker room. When she entered, she saw Annie was also there, getting her coat and bag from the lockers. Annie was an intimidating person, not only because of her attitude, but because Historia found herself helplessly attracted to her in a ‘nothing good will ever come out of this’ kind of way. She had abs, for Christ’s sake. Historia had seen them when she’d pulled her hoodie off and her t-shirt had come up with it. Historia was powerless when it came to muscular girls.

“Hi, Annie.” Historia said as she walked past her to grab her bag.

“Hey.” She said dismissively, ducking her head in her direction as she pulled her coat on.

She considered asking Annie if she wanted to hang out, maybe rent a few B-movie horror films and laugh at the bad special effects, but decided against it. Annie lived with these two huge guys that Historia had only seen a couple of times, picking her up or dropping her off to work. She didn’t know what was going on with them, but she guessed Annie was probably doing something with them. Besides, she wasn’t completely sure whether her and Annie were at that movie marathon point in their friendship. Probably not.

“I’ll see you in school Monday.” Annie called as she left the room and Historia nodded and waved.

“Yeah, I’ll see you.” She said cheerfully. Good god, she was such a loser. “Stupid.” She muttered to herself, “You’re an idiot.” She vaguely remembered that there was a marathon of Star Wars on TV that night. Maybe she could order a takeaway and watch that. It certainly couldn’t be worse than wallowing in her bedroom all night. She fetched her bag and left the shop as quickly as possible. 

The rain had lessened since the morning to a light drizzle when she stepped out. She mused over her and Annie’s exchange as she located her car, not really paying attention to her surroundings as she walked. Annie seemed so cool and unapproachable, but she was friendly towards her in school. She had an incredibly intimidating friend called Mikasa, who didn’t really bother with Historia, which was perfect. Historia favoured anonymity over being talked to in school over anything. They had been in the same class since Historia had moved a three years ago, and Annie always made a point of saying hello. It was stuff like that which made school almost bearable.

“Hey!”

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she practically jumped a mile when she heard a voice behind her. For a moment she thought it was Annie, but when she turned it was a tall, dark girl, maybe a couple of years older than Historia. She had a hopeful look on her face.

“Hey, d’you got a light?” 

“What? Ah, I don‘t.” Historia said apologetically. The girl was fidgeting with a box of really damp looking cigarettes. Historia found herself staring at her long, slim fingers, and when she realised she blushed and backed away in the direction of her car. “Sorry.” The girl’s dark hair was damp from the rain and her fringe was curling slightly. The rest was drawn back into a messy ponytail “Uh, I gotta get home. Sorry.”

The girl was watching her with a curious expression on her face. She was really twitchy. She stuffed her pack of cigarettes into the back pocket of her jeans and held out a hand. “Hi.”

Historia stared warily at her hand, and the girl dropped it after a moment, only she was smirking now. “Sorry for startling you.” She said languidly, looking past Historia. “That your car?” 

Historia didn’t have to look to know that it was. She took advantage of the girl’s distraction to study her. She wasn‘t as pretty up close. Her face was kind of feline, sharp and pointy, but Historia liked it. She had a long nose and a smattering of freckles across her dark skin. “Yeah, it is.” Historia muttered. She was tall and lean in a way which made Historia’s stomach flop, and her almond shaped eyes were dark and expressive. _She was cute._ “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

The girl flicked her gaze back to Historia and grinned, a sharp, knowing little smile which made Historia flush. “Ymir. Can I get a lift?” She smiled wider at Historia’s expression. “Y’know, since you didn’t have a light and all.”

Historia stared. The girl - Ymir - didn’t seem to be joking. She was gazing at Historia unwaveringly, that smile still on her lips. To her surprise, Historia found herself nodding. “Where to?”

Ymir grinned and thumped Historia on the shoulder. “Yes! You’re amazing. Let’s go.”

Dumbly, Historia followed Ymir to her car, only realising that Ymir hadn’t answered her question when she had unlocked the car and let her in. Sliding into the drivers seat, Historia repeated her question. 

“Do you know the industrial estate?” Ymir asked, wrinkling her brow. Historia nodded. “Out by there.“ She said simply. Historia mused on whether Ymir looked like the type to get her to drive somewhere remote then kill her. It was highly likely. She was definitely shifty enough, and looked like she’d been wearing the same clothes for years, from her duct-taped boots to her ratty jeans, to her kinda grubby Black Flag shirt under a faded army jacket that looked like it had seen better days. She looked like a dirty punk and Historia felt unbearably boring next to her in her work uniform.

Historia started the car, telling herself to relax. This was hanging out, right? She was being social. She flicked her gaze towards Ymir again, only to find the girl was already looking at Historia, her expression serious and intent. When she noticed Historia was looking, she winked and stuck her tongue out, curling the tip against her teeth. Historia frowned and pulled her attention back to the road.

“Are you gonna ask me my name?” She ventured, hoping to God she didn’t sound as lame as she did in her head. Ymir shrugged and put her feet up on the dash. “It’s Historia.” 

Ymir nodded. “Good for you.” She said. Historia frowned, the girl was kinda an asshole. “Hey can I put the radio on?” Leaning forward, she started messing around with Historia’s tape player. “What the fuck is this?”

“It’s a tape player - the radio’s right above it.” She took her hand off the steering wheel to point to the radio. 

Ymir was staring at her in disbelief. “Do you know what a CD is? Where do you even buy tapes anymore?” 

Historia cast her eyes upward and didn’t reply, just reached out to press play on the player. Brand New started playing from where she’d last played them a few days ago. “Where exactly am I going?”

“Just drive until you get to Broad Street.” Ymir said absently. “Good God, what is this barf?” She gestured towards the speakers. “Jesus Christ, Historia, this is gonna make me jump of a fuckin’ building.” 

_God, what an asshole._ Historia jerked the steering wheel a little too harshly as she turned a corner and smirked when Ymir’s head _thunked_ against the passenger door. “There’s tapes in the door, or try the radio.” 

Rubbing her head reproachfully, Ymir started rummaging in the pocket of the door. Historia looked across at her, and felt her stomach go cold. Ymir’s jacket had pulled up to her forearms as she reached for the tapes and Historia could see an array of scars on her wrists. They looked white and old and Historia knew she was staring but she couldn’t look away. She looked up as Ymir settled back into her seat, clutching what was basically Historia’s entire tape collection. Ymir had definitely seen Historia looking, but didn’t say anything, just gave Historia a long look and then dropped her gaze to the tapes in her lap. 

“God this is all so _depressing._ ” She said, wrinkling her nose and shifting the tapes around to look at the titles. Historia made an indignant noise. “D’you have any Bach?”

Historia didn’t look at Ymir, keeping her eyes focused on the road. “Bach?” She desperately hoped her voice was normal - she was feeling shaky and weird, like someone had just punched her in the stomach. There was no way those cuts weren’t self inflicted. “I don’t listen to Bach.” Ymir didn’t look like the sort of person to listen to Bach, Historia thought bemusedly.

“Bullshit. Not with those fingers.” Ymir said smugly, her eyes on Historia’s hands. Her hair was beginning to dry haphazardly, and it was curling wildly at the tip of her ponytail.

“What do you mean?” Historia asked confusedly, flexing her fingers on the steering wheel. She wondered if Ymir was just trying to shift the focus from her wrists to Historia.

“You play piano, right?”

“Viola.” Historia said, surprised. She pulled into Broad Street. “I mean - I’m not very good. I used to play a lot when I was a kid. I barely play anymore.”

“Turn down that side street.” Ymir directed, and Historia complied. Broad Street was kinda shady, and Historia wondered if this was where Ymir lived. She just wanted to leave before some kid keyed her car or something. Plus, it was getting dark. “You should keep playing.“ Ymir said seriously, before giving Historia a catlike smile. “This is me.” She said, dumping Historia’s tapes back into the door pocket. Historia pulled in so she could get out, looking up at the tall block of flats she was parked outside of. Ymir lived in one of these?

Ymir got out of the car awkwardly, she was tall but not graceful, which amused Historia. It was still drizzling slightly, and when Ymir stepped out Historia felt a blast of cold air that was extinguished as soon as Ymir slammed the door shut.

She made a puzzled face at Ymir when she tapped on the window and mimed rolling it down. Historia leaned across to roll it down and was hit again by the refreshingly cold air.

“What?”

“Thanks for the lift, man.” Ymir said simply, shrugging. Historia was taken aback, she hadn’t expected thanks. Ymir was smirking again as she shoved her hands into her jacket pockets and turned on the heel of her busted up boots to begin walking in the other direction. “I’ll see you around!”

Historia watched her disappear into a doorway of a high rise block of flats a couple of metres away. “Thank Christ.” She muttered to herself. What a smug asshole. Although, and she wouldn’t admit this to himself, Historia kinda hoped that she would see Ymir around again. She had no idea why - she was rude and had just blatantly used Historia for a ride, but Historia thought she seemed quite interesting. She was cute, yeah, but a lot of girls were cute. She liked Ymir’s sharp smile.

She didn’t roll up the window on the drive home, and instead enjoyed the sharp evening air and the occasional bit of rain that came in as she drove fast towards home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, Historia wears glasses. There's a reason why she has those laser eyes in the manga - she can't fuckin see anything.
> 
> Thanks for reading!! Pls point out any mistakes I've made here I'm a dumb idiot baby who can't proofread to save her life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not a lot happens in this chapter....except ymir is a complete Nerd.....
> 
> [homolust intensifies]

By the time Historia got home it was completely dark and her thoughts were a blur inside her head. She wished that Hanji was home - she would have liked a distraction and some company that didn’t come in the form of Hanji’s cat, Titan.

She didn’t end up ordering a pizza, or watching Star Wars. Instead she grabbed a can of beer from Hanji’s extensive collection in the fridge, scooped up the cat and retreated to her room. For good measure, she put the Smiths on as well. If she was going to have a brood in her room, she had better do it properly.

For maybe ten minutes she tried to focus on something else, but her mind kept returning to the image of Ymir’s wrists, crisscrossed with white scars. 

“Shit.” She muttered, lying back on the bed and staring up at the ceiling. The cat settled on her chest and began to purr. It was comforting but Historia was feeling too anxious to enjoy it. Absently, she stroked the cat’s fur. She couldn’t analyse why she was so affected by Ymir’s scars, but maybe it was because she was the first person who Historia had ever met who might be able to understand what Historia was feeling and going through. Not that she was depressed but she sometimes felt so blue she didn’t leave her bed for a day and found it hard to speak to other people. 

Historia groaned and threw her arm over her face. She was being a fucking idiot. This is why she didn’t have many friends - she had no idea how other people thought. Here she was picturing opening up to some girl who first tried to bum a light off her and instead managed to get a lift out of her. Ymir wasn’t even interested in learning her name, for fucks sake. She had insulted Historia’s music! She’d said Historia had pianist’s fingers-

Historia’s stomach lurched a little bit as she recalled Ymir’s fingers - _real_ pianist’s fingers. Long and graceful. She groaned and tried to recall the image of Annie‘s muscular stomach. It wasn’t cutting it - Ymir was at the forefront of her mind. Some girl she’d sat in a car with for what, fifteen minutes. Historia was such a fucking loser.

She wondered if Ymir was muscular as well.

\----------

Less than a week later, Historia ran into Ymir again.

She had been asked to come into work to cover Annie’s Wednesday evening shift, and she’d accepted because she was an absolute pushover who needed the money.

Work was slow, the shop almost empty, and Historia spent the majority of her shift talking to the other employee, Marco, about films. By the time 7 o’clock rolled round, she was just about ready to throttle herself with her apron strings. The guy thought the Star Wars prequels were better than the originals, for God’s sake.

She clocked out and left him to it. He was in full-on rant mode and she didn’t envy whoever was working the shift after her.

Coincidentally, she wasn’t even thinking about Ymir as she crossed the street towards her car. It was probably one of the few moments that week where her mind hadn’t been occupied by the girl. Instead, she was thinking about taking a drive down to the beach, despite the chill in the air. The beach was always pretty in autumn, pretty and cold and still. 

A voice cut across the darkening street, and Historia turned so fast she almost gave herself whiplash.

“Hey! Historia!”

It was Ymir - wearing a dorky Pizza Hut uniform under her usual grubby army jacket. Fighting off a strong sense of déjà vu, as well as the urge to laugh, Historia waved and waited for the other girl to catch up.

“It’s Historia, right?” Ymir asked, breathless, shooting Historia a quick glance. She looked away when Historia meet her gaze and nodded. Historia noticed the corners of her lips tugging up in a smile.

“Nice outfit.” Historia observed as Ymir fell into step with her. She had an unlit cigarette dangling between her lips, and gave Historia a dirty look as she lit it. 

“Gotta pay the rent somehow.” She mumbled around the cigarette, before exhaling quickly and looking Historia up and down. “Nice apron.”

“Since when have you worked in Pizza Hut?” Historia asked, ignoring Ymir’s comment. _Specifically the Pizza Hut right next to my work_ , Historia thought amusedly.

As if understanding the hidden statement behind Historia’s question, Ymir snorted. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve been working here for months - you caught me on my day off last week. Don‘t blame me if you looked like fair game for a free lift.”

Historia let it drop. “Do you need a lift now or something?” Historia asked. They were at her car, and Ymir was obviously waiting for her to say something.

Ymir flashed her a quick, but sincere, smile. “You’re a saviour.” Historia rolled her eyes.

As soon as they were inside, Historia cranked the heating as far as it would go and untied her work apron and threw it in the back. It was cold outside, and the interior of the car was icy. Historia’s breath hung in the air in front of her, mirroring the smoke coming from Ymir’s mouth. 

Historia drummed her fingers nervously on the steering wheel as she pulled out into the road. “Hey, can you put a tape in?” She asked Ymir, flicking on the indicator and pausing to let someone out. 

“Sorry, what?” Ymir said distractedly, followed by a sharp exhale. She had been reading a post-it-note reminder Historia had written herself. The car stank of smoke. Historia rolled down the window slightly and repeated her question. Ymir mumbled an affirmation and began to look through Historia’s tapes, cigarette clamped between her lips as her long fingers flicked through them.

She chose the same Brand New album that had been playing the other day - The Devil and God, and skipped tracks until ‘Luca’ was playing. Smiling, she settled back in her seat, stubbing out her cigarette butt in the ashtray at the same time. “I like this song.” She said, giving Historia a sidelong look. “You’ve got a pretty cool taste in music.”

Historia frowned, “You said it was depressing last time.”

“Well, you know what they say.” 

Historia didn’t. Silence settled over them again - the awkward silence of the casual acquaintances who didn’t really know enough about each other to start an interesting conversation. Historia desperately searched for a conversation topic, _anything_. Luckily, Ymir started talking at the exact moment when Historia was going to say something probably hopelessly stupid and inane.

“I remember you from school.”

Historia looked across at Ymir in alarm. “What?”

Ymir had her feet up on the seat, her ugly work trousers tucked into her beat up boots. She looked skinny, but tough. Her eyes were dark underneath and Historia could see a hole in her nose where a stud might have been. She couldn’t picture her in school uniform. Historia was fairly certain she’d never seen Ymir before.

“I got kicked out the year you transferred. It was my last year.” Ymir said, and began to dig around in the pockets of her coat. She produced a white lighter and kinda twisted cigarette. She grumbled but lit it anyway. Historia frowned, she hated people chain smoking in her car. “I remember you because of your famous dad or whatever. And that undercut you had.” She laughed suddenly, taking herself by surprise and choking as she inhaled smoke. 

Historia groaned, taking her eyes off the road briefly to thunk her head against the steering wheel. “Shut up.” She ignored the tightness in her stomach at the mention of her father.

“Fifteen was a bad age for us all.” Ymir said sagely, blowing smoke out of her nose. Historia severely doubted that any age was a bad age for Ymir. “Nah, it was interesting. You were interesting.”

Historia did some quick mental maths in her head - Ymir must be nineteen or twenty now. “I don’t remember you.” She admitted. “Ah, fuck.” She muttered, as someone cut her off. She was almost at the industrial estate, which was about ten minutes from Ymir‘s block of flats. A part of her was disappointed - she was interested to know what Ymir had thought about her and didn’t want their conversation to end.

“I’m not surprised.” Ymir said, picking at a piece of duct tape on her shoe. “Although, like, I was the only mixed girl in my year, so.” She shrugged expansively. “I should’ve started a gang.”

“That would’ve been terrifying.” Historia deadpanned. Ymir snorted.

“But for real, I’m not surprised you don’t remember. I mean, I barely ever came to school, and if I did I spent most of my time there smoking pot by the bike sheds.“ She paused for a moments reflection on that statement and grinned. “It isn’t as cool as it sounds.” She said. Historia snorted and silence yet again descended upon them. Historia decided to enjoy it even if she had to force herself to. Silence only became awkward if you made it awkward.

When she pulled in to pavement where she’d dropped Ymir off last time, Ymir looked up from cracking her knuckles and looked surprised. “Oh wow, are we here already?” She unfolded herself from the seat, but paused with her hand on the door handle. “Wanna come in?” She asked offhandedly. 

Historia was taken aback. She was nodding before her brain could even process it. “Yeah, okay.” 

Ymir smiled widely.

\---------

After a short trip up in an elevator that smelt strongly of urine, and a lengthy walk down a dim corridor that was lit every few yards with a fluorescent strip light, Historia found herself standing in the doorway of Ymir’s cramped, albeit cosy, apartment.

It wasn’t exactly what she’d expected. It was tiny, yeah, that was a given in these cheap, high rise apartment blocks, but it wasn’t stifling. She’d expected it to be a lot messier, that was for sure. Considering Ymir’s appearance - her demeanour, her dress style, the fact that it looked like she hadn’t washed her hair in a week, Historia had been expected something kind of dirty and cave-like. It wasn’t that at all.

It was all one room, except for a door at the far end of the room which Historia guessed led to the bathroom. The front door opened out directly onto the kitchen area, which was tiled in tired-looking lino that was a cheerful green, despite the scuff marks and signs of age. There was a mini-fridge, as well as a sink stacked with dirty dishes, and a stove that looked practically untouched. Historia suspected a lot of microwave meals were consumed, judging by the not quite overflowing bin. 

Directly across from the kitchenette was a big brown couch with looked like it had definitely seen better days, as well as a coffee table scattered with ashtrays and CDs. The ashtrays were messy, the piles of CDs weren’t. There was an out of date CD player balanced on the arm of the defeated-looking sofa, and a mug balanced on top of that. Historia was mildly impressed. There was also a dresser, acting as a TV stand, which was pushed up against the far wall, under the window. The TV was as out of date as the CD player, and looked like it only took videos. _So much for Ymir scoffing at my tape player_ , Historia thought amusedly to herself.

Next to the couch was a partition wall, and on the other side of that was an unmade bed which seemed to consist of two mattresses piled on top of each other, directly on the floor, and about a hundred pillows and duvets. Next to the bed were a few stacks of books, as well as a floor lamp and an alarm clock. Unsurprisingly, there was also an ashtray shedding cigarette butts onto the floor.

The bed was right next to the door, which Historia thought was kind of weird, but it was cosy. The apartment was definitely cosy. The walls were painted a dark burgundy, which made the room seem dim and even smaller, but there was a large window directly across the room from the door which probably had a gorgeous view of the other block of flats, but Historia couldn’t see because the curtains were closed. Almost every flat surface was cluttered - candles, books, incense holders, ashtrays, mugs. The floor was wooden everywhere but the kitchen, and - Historia took a step into the room - yeah, creaky. Really creaky.

“This is really nice.” She commented. She meant it. Despite the worn look of the place, there was a friendly, homey vibe coming from it. She felt welcome in a way which she didn’t in her room at Hanji’s house.

Ymir made an amused noise and kicked the door shut behind her. A number of coat hangers which were hung on the back of the door rattled discordantly, and a few clattered to the ground. Bending to scoop them up, Ymir replied a short, “thanks.” 

Historia stepped further into the room, inhaling the smoky smell of the incense. Ymir breezed by her to open the curtains and paused by the window. Historia was right about the view. 

“Would you like the grand tour?” Ymir asked in a pseudo-upper class accent, extending her arm to gesture expansively around the room. She looked ridiculous in her Pizza Hut uniform and shabby coat, and Historia bit back a laugh.

“ _Please_.” She said imperiously, playing along.

Ymir adopted the manner of a showy realtor, giving Historia a flashy smile and gesturing towards the unmade bed. “This, as you can see, is the master bedroom, complete with elaborate cigarette ash between the sheets and dirty socks. And directly opposite would be the kitchen area, outfitted with completely brand new appliances because I can’t cook and the gas doesn’t work properly-” She threw herself down onto the couch, “And this is the living room slash dining area, so you can eat your microwave cordon bleu whilst watching your soaps and dropping food onto the couch…and that!” She pointed grandly out the window. “Is the grand view into apartment number 26 where the tenant seemly owns no clothes and no curtains - fuck.” She had nudged the CD player with her elbow as she gestured and had sent the thing toppling over the arm of the sofa, chipping the mug in the process. “Ah, shit.” She muttered. “That concludes our tour.”

Historia laughed and settled down onto the couch next to Ymir, who had her boots up on the coffee table. The couch was a lot comfier than it looked, and Historia felt herself sinking into it. She hadn’t realised how tired she was. Getting barely any sleep the night before paired with working straight after school had really knocked it out of her. Ymir elbowed her in the side before rising smoothly from the sofa and discarding her coat over the back of it. 

“I’m gonna get in the shower.” She said casually, stretching and running her fingers through her hair. She scowled. “I stink like deep fat fryers, ugh.” 

Historia nodded, mesmerised by the tiny strip of skin of her lower back that had been revealed when Ymir had stretched. She had freckles there too. Historia wondered where else she had freckles. “Okay.” She said quickly, blushing when she realised Ymir was looking at her with a cat-like smirk on her lips.

“Okay.” Ymir echoed, stepping over to the closed door which Historia had assumed was the bathroom. “Make yourself at home, there’s food in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

Ymir left the door open a crack when she went for her shower, so she could speak to Historia. Historia studiously did not look at the bathroom door, and instead began looking through the CDs stacked on the table.

“So do you still go to Trost?” Ymir called over the sound of rushing water. “Or did you go to college?”

“I’m still in Trost.” Historia called back, flipping one of Ymir’s CDs over to look at the back. She had a lot of punk, as well as a ton of classical music - Historia remembered their conversation before about Bach. She made a mental note to look it up later.

“Is Mr Dawk still there?”

“Yeah, but he doesn‘t teach History anymore.” Historia said absently. The steam from the bathroom was fogging up her glasses so she couldn’t see the writing on the jewel case she was holding. “Is it okay if I open the window?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ymir said easily. Historia heard her drop something, and make a pained noise, as she got up to open the window. The view outside was pretty dismal, she had to admit. The concrete face of the other set of flats was so close that Historia could see straight into the apartment adjacent. She was thankful the man inside wasn’t visible - she could’ve done without that at the end of a long day, if Ymir was to be believed.

“He still wears that bolero tie.” Historia said, loud enough for Ymir to hear over the sound of the water. She wondered absently how thin the walls were.

She heard Ymir laugh. “He thinks he‘s a fuckin‘ cowboy or something, I swear to God.” She heard the shower squeak off, and then Ymir’s wet footsteps as she stepped out of the shower. 

At a normal tone, Historia continued talking, mainly to cover up how incredibly awkward she was feeling. Was Ymir going to come out naked? Girls were naked in front of each other, right? She was pretty sure she’d have some sort of haemorrhage if Ymir emerged naked. “Yeah, and those cowboy boots he brought back from - oh.” 

She had turned when she’d heard Ymir laugh behind her, and wasn’t really prepared for the sight of Ymir freshly emerged from the shower. Thank god she had a towel on at least.

“I remember those.” Ymir said, either ignoring or unaware of Historia’s distraction. Historia nodded dumbly and sat back down on the sofa. “I had the biggest crush on him. I wanted to fuck him so bad.” She said offhandedly, towelling off her hair and peeking at Historia through haphazard strands. She smirked at Historia’s expression and dropped the towel she was using to dry her hair to the floor. “Do you want some coffee? Tea?”

“Uh, yes. Please. Coffee, thanks.” Historia said, stumbling over her words. She needed to pull herself together holy shit.

Ymir nodded. “Can you close the window? It’s freezing in here.” She asked, hunching her shoulders and clasping her hands together as she waited for the kettle to boil. 

_Maybe if you put some clothes on_ , Historia thought, but complied - it was pretty cold now. 

Historia watched Ymir as she made the coffee. Watched the single droplet of water inch down her knobbly spine, watched the scars on her wrists and the hair under her arms. The freckles all over her skin. Pieces of Ymir were beginning to come together in Historia’s mind. The classical music, the scruffy clothes, the bruise blooming over her clavicle.

When Ymir handed Historia a chipped mug full to the brim with strong smelling coffee, Historia watched the tendons in her wrist bunch up and smooth out, and the way the scars didn’t.

“Thanks.” She said quietly, and Ymir tipped her a lopsided grin and moved behind the partition to get dressed.

She emerged wearing white cotton knickers and a huge Led Zeppelin t-shirt. Historia smiled waveringly at her as she took a seat next to Historia on the couch. Ymir gave her a serious look. 

“Listen to music, or watch Korean sitcoms.” She said gravely. “Your call.”

“Listen to music.” Historia shot back, just as seriously. She felt warmth bloom inside her chest when Ymir smiled and nodded.

“Good choice.” She said, leaning over the side of the couch to retrieve the fallen CD player. Historia really tried not to look at her butt. She really did.

They spent the rest of the evening talking about nice, light, unimportant stuff. Ymir’s head was pillowed on the sagging arm of the sofa, her feet in Historia’s lap. They listened to The Pixies, Bach, Vivaldi, a K-Pop band whose name Historia didn’t catch but whom Ymir had been obsessed with when she was 14 and hadn’t had the heart to stop listening to them.

After Historia had excused herself, pleading exhaustion and school the next morning, she felt more hopeful than she’d felt in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!! ur all amazin kisses u all over ur collective faces


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so thanks so much for reading my cruddy fic and leaving kudos and just !! thank u a lot ur all amazin ily if anyone wants to hmu my nsfw/writing blog is girlshinji.tumblr.com and i'll probs give u my personal if u message me l m ao 
> 
> also i'm going away this week for christmas so i'm not sure if i'll be able to update this until early january unless i get wifi where i'm staying but think i'm gonna try and update every thursday/sunday? so hopefully i'll be able to stick to that schedule haha but yeah! probably no regular updates for a little while !
> 
> oh and tw for depression yo

Somewhere between Historia giving Ymir lifts home from work and Ymir inviting her over to watch TV or just to hang out in her flat, they became close friends. Historia had never really had a good friend, or a person who she felt comfortable enough around to spend a lot of time with, but being friends with Ymir was easy. It felt natural to wait by her car after work if she had the same shift as Ymir, if felt natural to put the kettle on whilst Ymir showered and yammered through the door at her. Ymir’s flat felt like home to her in a way which her own homes, any of them, ever had. Historia had never been friends with anyone who she felt as comfortable with as Ymir. It was nice and simple and uncomplicated, Historia’s weird crush on Ymir aside.

By the end of October, a little under two months after she had first met Ymir, Historia knew a lot of tiny things about her which when she thought back on them, definitely gave her a warm feeling. Like how Ymir looked when she’d just woken up and was pissed at Historia for waking her, like how she was terrified of spiders, and the dark. She’d crack all her knuckles in quick succession if she was nervous, or angry. She was working on her anger issues so she never cooked because she was so bad at it. How she was a complete film snob but watched terrible sitcoms like her life depended on it. She owned a million flannel shirts and only one pair of shoes. Like how if she was feeling depressed she’d leave the door open for Historia and retreat into the bathroom to chain smoke in the bath.

But despite picking up on all her little quirks and idiosyncrasies, Historia had no real grasp on what Ymir was really like. To Historia, Ymir was this background-less entity who had sprung into the world fully formed and complaining about the price of cereal. Sure she was kind of vulgar, definitely rude, and militant with her views and opinions, but _why_ was she like that?

But it wasn’t important, really. Historia was just the sort of person who liked to know everything about someone - she found people endlessly fascinating. Besides, it wasn’t like Ymir knew a lot about her either.

Historia mulled this over as she took the elevator up to Ymir’s floor. Someone had scratched their initials into the mirrored wall of the lift, and she scraped it with her fingernail mindlessly as she waited. She wasn’t feeling right today, like she was moving in slow motion whilst the rest of the world had sped up. Driving had been a nightmare and she’d almost decided against meeting Ymir today and staying in bed with the curtains closed, but she didn’t want to let Ymir down.

When Ymir opened the door to her, Historia walked straight past her and into the bathroom to sit in the tub. She drew the shower curtain around it and sat in the semi-darkness like that for a few minutes, letting her world shrink to the size of Ymir’s bath and taking deep, steady breaths. The bath was still damp and water was seeping through her thick tights but it was oddly grounding so Historia didn’t mind. She heard Ymir enter the bathroom and softly close the door behind her. She didn’t turn the light on, which Historia was grateful for.

“Can I come in?” She heard Ymir ask quietly, and Historia made a muted noise of affirmation against her knees. Ymir drew back the curtain slightly and stepped into the bath. It was awkward and they ended up with their knees pressed tightly together. Ymir was wearing her gross jacket as well as a huge knitted scarf and a hat. Historia wondered if she had planned something for today. She looked nice.

“You look nice.” Historia said quietly. Ymir ignored her and pulled her hat off, twisting it nervously between her fingers. She had terrible hat hair.

“Are you okay?”

Historia shook her head. “I think I’m just gonna…sit here. For a bit.” She lapsed into silence.

Ymir made a sympathetic noise and dug through the pockets of her coat. “D’you want a cigarette?” She seemed at a loss of what do to. Historia was slightly touched. She nodded.

“Yes. Please.”

The air between them gradually grew blue with smoke. _Ymir definitely knows what she’s doing_ , Historia thought as she felt herself come back to her body. The act of smoking was grounding in itself, and coupled with the tiny space of the bath, helped calm Historia down significantly. There may also have been something in the way Ymir’s legs were pressed so closely against Historia’s, but she decided to ignore that for now.

“We’re a fuckin’ pair, aren’t we.” Ymir said, shaking her head and letting it fall back against the tiled wall. Historia didn’t say anything. Ymir had been listening to a mix CD which she’d picked up from somewhere when Historia had come in. Mozart was playing and the air was filled with the soft strains of cello drifting through the bathroom door as they both smoked in silence, lost in thought. “Do you want to talk about it?” Ymir asked.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Historia said, reaching to stub the butt of her cigarette out in the overflowing ashtray next to the taps of the bath. “I’m just not having a very good day.” She mumbled. Now that she had nothing to do to keep her hands busy, she was fidgeting. Ymir leaned across to grasp her hands and hold them still.

“Don’t ever be afraid to unload on me, okay.” Ymir said seriously, ducking her head to keep eye contact with Historia as she tried to avoid it. “I mean it. I’m tougher than I look.” She gave Historia a quick smile and Historia could think of a thousand things which were tougher than the girl across from her. Spun glass, baby birds, china dolls, dragonflies wings.

Neither of them said anything as they held hands through Mozart‘s Piano Sonata in A Major.

\---------

The next week went by uneventfully. Historia managed to get into school three days out of the five, which was an achievement for her, but she had a panic attack in work on Saturday so Levi drove her home. It was all rather humiliating, especially since Annie had seen her crying.

She decided to go for a drive, because she hadn’t had the chance to all week as she’d either been busy with homework or she hadn’t had the energy to even microwave leftovers, let alone drive. Hanji was still out at work, which was good, because she’d never let Historia go driving on such a bad day. She was scared of her driving off a bridge, or something..

Historia drove to the beach. It was evening and the sky was pink and lavender and she wanted to see it reflected in the sea. She was feeling spaced out and she only realised she was crying when it became almost impossible to see the road. 

Historia liked the quiet of the beach. She liked to sit and feel the stillness of the place. The sky reflecting on the water. The cold air against her face, drying her eyes. She felt tired and hollow. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone else sitting on the beach, about ten metres away. A mild spark of interest cut through the fog in her mind, but as quickly as it came, it was gone. Historia went back to digging her hands through the cold sand she was sat on, thinking.

She hated this deadened feeling that starting new meds made her feel. Like everything was so far away but too close at the same time. Voices came to her as if from down a long tunnel, but when someone brushed against her in passing she was hyperaware of it, almost painfully so. 

Historia brought her knees up to her chest and rested her head on them. She became aware by degrees that somebody was saying her name. She lifted her head and saw a figure approaching. It was waving. She’d recognise that skinny frame anywhere.

Ymir was wearing the same clothes she’d been wearing when Historia had last seen her. A whole week ago. It seemed like a lifetime. Historia felt mildly guilty for neglecting her friend without even an explanation for her absence. She cursed and dropped her head into her arms again. She really didn’t need this right now. All she’d wanted was to watch the sea on her own.

"Historia? Is that you?" Ymir’s voice was loud and abrasive, and immediately grated on Historia’s nerves. She felt Ymir sit down next to her and tried to ignore how her heart stuttered when she leaned close enough for Historia to feel the warmth of her body. "Woah, are you alright?” She felt a light touch on her back, and flinched away from it. 

"Please shut up." Historia muttered into her arms.

Ymir made an apologetic noise and lapsed into silence. Historia turned her head to look at her - she looked nice in the pink light. It brought out in the brown in her dark hair. Historia realised how much she’d missed her company.

They were quiet for a long time together. It was an easy silence. Historia never felt the need to fill their silences with words anymore. She let the silence settle and still between them as she watched Ymir.

Her face was turned downwards, eyes closed. Her knees were drawn up close to her chest and her expression was tense. Historia felt her chest tighten strangely as she stared. Ymir’s profile was sharp and lovely, and Historia’s gaze skittered down past her long nose and defined collarbones to settle jarringly on a spot of what looked like blood on the front of her t-shirt. She was sporting a split lip and a bruised cheekbone. It was then that Historia realised she was being unkind.

“Are you okay?” She asked in a quiet voice. Ymir didn’t open her eyes, but a sardonic smile crept across her face and she shook her head.

“Are _you_ okay?” She was looking at Historia out of the corner of her eye. 

“No.” Historia said, and laughed hollowly. Ymir nodded and began to dig around in the expansive pockets of her coat. She produced a half smoked cigarette and lit it.

“Wanna talk about it?” She said, blowing a thin stream of smoke past battered lips. She didn’t offer Historia a cigarette this time.

Historia dug her hands through the sand and let it slide through her fingers as she mulled Ymir’s question over. She had brushed off the same question from Ymir the week before because she hadn’t felt ready to open up to her. But she’d been alone a lot this past week, and it had given her a lot of time to think.

“I-.” She hesitated, but the opportunity was too good, and she barrelled on. “I’ve just had a shitty day. A shitty month. A shitty fuckin’ year.” She glanced sideways at Ymir to check if she was listening. Ymir picked a piece of tobacco off her tongue and gestured with the hand holding the cigarette for Historia to continue.

“Go on, I’m listening.”

The sky was getting darker, and Historia was glad. It was always easier to talk about personal things under the cover of darkness. She cleared her throat and scrubbed her hands over her face, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. “I’ve just been thinking a lot about family, and about my childhood lately and it’s just.” She broke off, making a frustrated sound. “I’m just mad at myself for letting it still affect me. I’m supposed to be stronger than this. I’m sorry.” She laughed weakly and pressed her forehead against her knees. She felt so stupid.

“Don’t be.” Ymir murmured. Historia listened to her smoke for a bit. It was calming. Maybe it was just nice to have someone breathing next to her.

“I had a really terrible childhood.” She said finally. “And it’s only just beginning to catch up with me. That’s all.”

She felt Ymir move next to her, but she was just leaning forward to stub her cigarette out. Her sleeve rode up as she did so and Historia could see her old scars on her wrist, as well as streak of blood, probably from wiping her bleeding lip.

“Your dad’s that religious dude, right? The one who started his own religion, Pastor Reiss?” Ymir’s tone was surprisingly careful.

“Yeah.” Historia said shortly. “I don’t agree with it.”

“What did he do to you?”

“Nothing!” Historia exclaimed. “That’s the point, I was ignored. My father was never home, my grandparents didn’t love me - I didn’t even have any friends because all the other children’s parents warned them about me. I guess they didn’t want my dad’s religion rubbing off on them. They used to throw rocks, and I was bullied a lot in the place I used to live. I was home schooled up until I moved here.”

“That’s tough, I’m sorry.” Ymir muttered, moving her sandy hand to cover Historia’s. Historia gripped her fingers tightly.

It was a long time before either of them spoke.

"Are you crying?” Ymir said eventually, her tone surprised.

Historia reached up to touch her face. "Yeah." She said in a croaky voice. "Are you bleeding?"

Ymir reached to touch her face, fingers coming away bloody, and managed a sad, lopsided smile. "Yeah."

Historia started laughing. She really did. It wasn't funny, but it felt good to laugh. Goddamn, it was serious being seventeen. Ymir joined in after a beat, her laugh dumb and obnoxious.

"We're so fucked up." She managed. Ymir was hunched over, shoulders shaking, but at that she sobered slightly.

"Yeah." She said quietly, and the tone of her voice stopped Historia's laughter in its tracks. “Listen, d’you wanna get out of here? I feel weirdly responsible for you right now.“ She paused and tilted her head to the side. “More than usual I mean. Also like I maybe shouldn’t be alone.”

The bare honesty in her voice freaked Historia out a little, but she found herself nodding fervently. “Yeah. I would.”

Ymir nodded once and pushed herself to her feet. She held a hand out to Historia, which she grasped without pause.

“I’ve got my car.” Historia said, surreptitiously wiping her eyes. Ymir was pointedly not looking at her, for which Historia was grateful. She needed to pull herself together, and to stop crying like a child. Ymir’s words were ringing through her head - _I feel weirdly responsible for you right now_ \- what did she mean by that? Did she mean that Historia was being a burden to her, or that Ymir felt she needed looking after? Either option wasn’t too hot.

They didn’t talk on the way to Historia’s car, and not a word was spoken until they were well into the city limits. Ymir seemed deep in thought, curled up in the passenger seat. She was watching Historia with the same intensity as she had when she had first ridden in the car, only when Historia glanced over to her this time, she didn’t make light of it, but averted her eyes and stared out of the windshield. Historia didn’t play any music.

Historia finally broke the silence. “How did you get that bruise?” She asked hesitantly.

“I got in a fight.” Ymir said simply. 

Historia flicked her gaze to Ymir, who was touching her split lip gingerly again. “Why?”

“Because I like it.” She said deliberately, dropping her hand and giving Historia a challenging look.

“But, why?” Historia repeated, mystified. Why would anyone ever _want_ to be in a fight? Ymir didn’t answer her, just dug around in her coat for a lighter and a cigarette. Ymir was an aggressive smoker, inhaling deeply, exhaling sharply. She drummed her fingers on the ripped knees of her jeans as she smoked, staring contemplatively out of the window. Historia noticed her knees were scraped up, and the knuckles of her right hand, which were tightly gripping her cigarette, were bruised and bloody.

It wasn’t the first time Historia had noticed bruises on Ymir, or blood on the collar of her jacket. She had perpetually scraped up knees and hands, but Historia just guessed that it was from Ymir’s terrible attempts at skateboarding. She guessed 50% of it was. She thought back to Ymir’s scarred wrists, and wondered how bad it was, how bad _Ymir_ was. 

They had never openly talked about the scars on Ymir’s wrists. Historia got the impression that they weren’t very important to her. Ymir often mentioned them in passing, casually, like ‘I forgot to bring my jacket with me to work today so I had to go back for it to cover up,’ or ‘I pitched a fit in work today because they wouldn’t let me wear a long sleeved top under my uniform’. But she never talked about why they were there, or what made her do that to herself. She never really talked about herself, actually. Historia could tell when she was feeling depressed because she wouldn’t get up to answer the door, or she’d sit in the bath and chain smoke. She wondered how long it had been since Ymir had last hurt herself.

“Did you walk all the way from your flat to the beach?” Historia asked, wanting to take her mind off morbid thoughts. It was at least a thirty minute drive for Historia from her house, and Ymir lived right in the city center, about twenty minutes walk from Historia. 

Ymir shrugged, “I was already half way there when I got beat up. “Seemed like the sensible place to go.” She took a sharp drag on the cigarette, giving Historia a sidelong look as she exhaled. “It’s my favourite place to be. The beach, I mean.”

“Mine too.” Historia said, and paused. “Next time we should go together.”

She heard Ymir make a small noise in the back of her throat. “That’d be nice.” She said, and her voice sounded slightly less even than it had a moment ago. Historia supposed it was hard keeping up such a tough front all the time.

Historia drove to Ymir’s apartment block instead of her own house. She felt slightly guilty at how little she’d seen of Hanji since becoming friends with Ymir, but she really didn’t feel like seeing Hanji and having to introduce Ymir to her. No doubt it would happen at some point, but it didn’t have to happen that night.

All the lights were on inside Ymir’s flat when she unlocked the door and headed straight for the sofa. Historia closed the door quietly behind her and wondered if Ymir had left in such a hurry that she left the lights on - she was normally careful with stuff like that. Most of the time the lights weren’t even on because she wanted to cut down on her electricity bill so much. Historia flicked off the main overhead light and instead turned the bedside lamp on. It cast a soft, yellow light over the apartment that gave the impression of warmth. In reality, it was freezing.

“I’m gonna put the heating on.” Historia said quietly to Ymir’s prone figure on the couch. Ymir grunted in assent.

The boiler was hidden behind a tiny door in the bathroom, and needed a few well-placed kicks before it would light. Standing there in the freezing cold bathroom, listening to the boiler start up, Historia realised just how much she’d become accustomed to being in Ymir’s kind of shitty, kind of rundown apartment. Like since when did she know how many kicks it took to get Ymir’s temperamental boiler to start? She stared at the boiler for a minute longer, zoning out, before exiting the bathroom in time to see Ymir sitting up on the couch and touching a tissue to her lip with a wince. It looked like it was bleeding again. She looked up as Historia stopped in the doorway.

“I could use some help with this.” Ymir said quietly, at the exact moment that Historia stuttered out a quiet, “Let me help.”

“Oh.” Historia said, and Ymir’s lips twitched. “Ah, yeah okay.” She didn’t move from her position in the doorway.

“The medical box is in the bathroom cabinet.” Ymir said helpfully, tipping her head forward slightly to press her fingers against the crown of her head. “Ouch.“ Her hair swung forward from where it had been tucked behind her ear and obscured her face. Historia was sure she’d never seen someone so beautiful.

She located the medical box easily enough, but her hands lingered on the various containers of pills mixed in amongst the shampoos and other miscellaneous bathroom junk. Both Xanax and Valium, as well as a full bottle of Prozac and one almost empty one. That was normal, or at least, Historia suspected it was. However what surprised her was the amount of prescription painkillers there were. Feeling slightly perturbed, Historia grabbed the medical box and shut the cabinet hurriedly. 

With the first aid kid spread out on the coffee table in front of them, Historia held Ymir’s chin firmly in her fingers. A large bruise was spreading over her cheekbone, and it looked like her nose had been bleeding, as well as her lip. It looked painful, and Historia gave her a sympathetic look, although it was partly her own fault. She told herself that as she dabbed antiseptic on Ymir’s lip, washing away the blood. She repeated the process with her nose. “It doesn’t look so bad.” She said. It wasn’t a complete lie, although Ymir’s face did look rather puffy and her lip was swollen.

“I’m really sorry about this.” Ymir kept saying, “This was supposed to be about you.” Historia just packed away the medical stuff as quickly and quietly as possible, retreating to the bathroom for a second to give Ymir a moment to collect herself. When she returned Ymir was staring emptily off into space, eyes unfocused and glazed. Historia could relate.

They settled into their usual positions on the couch after that, and Historia put some music on quietly in the background. Historia tucked her legs underneath her, shifting Ymir’s legs until she was comfortable. She felt strangely disconnected so she touched Ymir’s sock clad feet, running her fingers up the arch and along her toes. Ymir made a disgruntled noise and kicked her feet until Historia stopped tickling her.

“It‘s the anniversary of my grandparents’ death.” She said quietly, wiggling her toes in Historia’s grasp.

“I’m sorry.” Historia said as sincerely as possible. “Were you close with them?”

A faint movement from Ymir indicated a shrug, and she sat up slightly as she lit a cigarette. The soft _snick_ of the lighter, paired with the accompanying quiet inhale/exhale was comforting and familiar to Historia. She felt herself relax slightly. This could almost be a normal night. 

“I only met them a couple of times.” Ymir was talking again, pausing only to exhale smoke sharply and rub a hand over her bruised face. “But they thought I was a good kid. They were the only people who thought I was gonna end up doing something good with myself.” Her voice had taken on a wistful tone. “They were wrong though.”

“How old were you when they died?” Historia asked quietly. She felt the insurmountable urge to ask questions until she knew everything about Ymir, every facet of her past and her life, but she held herself back. She needed to be careful with this. Ymir was twitchy and skittish about her personal life at the best of times.

“I was eighteen.” There was a long silence then, and when Historia looked over to Ymir she saw that the other girl was staring off into space, lost in thought. When she noticed Historia was looking however, she flashed her a quick grimace. “I was a fuck up. My parents had gotten a divorce, so I kinda went off the rails. Car crash. I’m actually glad they never found out what I was like. They didn‘t live here, see. So they saw me less and less every year.”

“My parents weren‘t together either. My dad cheated on his wife with my mum.” Historia blurted out, skimming her fingers over the top of Ymir’s foot to rest lightly on her ankle. “I lived with my mum but-” She cut herself off and shrugged, uncomfortable. In the dim light of the room she could see Ymir stretch languidly, her whole body tensing for a second, before relaxing back into the couch. Her shirt rode up over her stomach but she made no move to fix it. Historia felt herself flush warmly when she noticed Ymir’s lightly muscled abdomen.

“What happened to her?” Ymir asked, her voice soft.

“She died.” Historia said shortly.

“Sorry. I’m sorry, Historia.” Ymir sounded guilty and sad. Historia shrugged and avoided her eyes. 

“It’s okay. We weren‘t close.” Historia muttered. She hated people feeling sorry for her because she didn’t have a mother. “Tell me about your grandparents.”

The silence stretched for a moment, before Ymir started talking again. The words spilled out of her breathlessly, as if she’d been keeping them bottled up for a long time. Historia watched Ymir’s face as she talked, the way she moved her hands as she spoke. She was animated as she recalled memories of her visits to them as a child and Historia reflected on how different she was when she spoke about her grandparents. Truthfully, she was jealous. Absently, Historia moved her hand to cup Ymir’s calf, reaching her fingers out to stroke the back of her knee.

“In a way though, it took their death for me to work out that I needed to stop acting out just because my father didn’t love me and my mother didn’t want me. I mean, when my parents split I was hardcore involved in the whole punk scene so like, that was bad enough.” She paused to reach across to stub her cigarette butt out on the coffee table. “I looked all -” She broke off and fluttered her hands around her face, “-shaved hair, piercings, y’know. I was into drugs and I was getting drunk most nights and sleeping with complete strangers and then I got kicked out of school.” She laughed. “I was so depressed, I was so fucked up. And then they died…and, I just thought to myself like, _would they be happy seeing me doing this to myself?_ So I stopped. I stopped fucking strangers, I stopped taking drugs.”

Historia thought of the all the meds in the bathroom cupboard, but didn’t say anything. Ymir had moved so she was leaning against Historia’s side now, legs still draped in Historia’s lap. She was warm and smelt of cigarette smoke and Historia flinched when Ymir buried her face into her neck.

“I still get into fights though.” She said against Historia’s neck, and her laughter was tiny puffs of air against the skin there. “I’m a terrible pacifist.”

“I thought you were a nihilist.”

“That too.” Ymir said easily. “Wanna drink?”

“It’s kinda late for coffee.” Historia said dumbly, turning her head as Ymir lifted her head from the crook of Historia’s neck to laugh at her. “What?”

“I meant _alcohol_ you idiot.” She said fondly. Historia screwed up her face and shook her head. Ymir pouted at her, kicking her legs out of Historia’s grasp so she could stand. Reluctantly, Historia took her hands off Ymir’s legs.

“I shouldn’t drink, I have work tomorrow.” She said grudgingly. “Ymir! So do you!” She exclaimed as Ymir extracted a bottle of vodka from the back of the kitchen cupboard.

Ymir gave her a disbelieving look, the bottle of vodka in her hand looking actually really tempting. “I’ve had the shittiest day for a long time. I’m getting drunk. C’mon.” She tipped the bottle enticingly, giving Historia a catlike grin. She winced as the expression stretched her cut lip.

Historia sighed. “Fine.” That particular grin that Ymir always gave her when she wanted Historia to give in to something was her major weakness. “But just be aware I’ll probably start crying.”

Ymir gave her a soft, sad smile. “Don’t worry, me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always point out any mistakes i've made and comments are welcome!! thanks for reading !


	4. Chapter 4

It turned out that Historia should really, _really_ not drink. She completely blamed it on Ymir, because if Ymir wasn’t such a heavyweight, Historia wouldn’t have drunk so much in an attempt to keep up with her.

After throwing up twice in Ymir’s freezing cold bathroom, she brushed her teeth and crawled out of her jeans and in between the sheets of Ymir’s bed, shivering. She’d left her glasses on the bathroom floor and everything was pleasantly soft around the edges.

“Feeling better?” Ymir mumbled, inching closer to Historia’s back and reaching out to tug on her plait. 

“Fuck you.” Historia muttered, but there was no heat behind the words. It was hard to be angry when Ymir was untying her hair and running her fingers through it to work it out of the tight plait. She hummed softly and arched into the touch of Ymir’s fingers on her scalp, gently massaging. Her head was swimming from the alcohol and she felt bone-numbingly tired, but it was nice. 

They were both silent for a long time, so long that Historia was sure that Ymir had dropped off to sleep, but her fingers were still twisting through the strands of Historia’s hair soothingly. Historia turned over so she was face to face with Ymir. She could barely make out the other girl in the darkness of the flat, but she could see that her eyes were open and looking at Historia.

“Why’d you do it?” Historia said after a pause, her words slurring together slightly. She hunched herself into a more comfortable position, knees pulled in to her chest, one arm under her head and the other thrown into the few inches of space between her and Ymir.

“Do what?” Ymir whispered.

“You know what.” Historia whispered back, skating her fingers over Ymir’s wrists.

“Because I hated myself.” Ymir murmured sleepily. She moved her hand so she could thread her fingers through Historia’s. Her palm was sweaty and she squeezed once before beginning to stroke her thumb over Historia’s fingers.

“You’re talking like it didn’t happen to you.” She said in a hushed voice. The only sound in the room were their soft voices and the quiet noises from the boiler. The silence lay thick over them like a blanket.

“I try to pretend that it didn’t.” Ymir retorted. “It’s not exactly something I’m proud of. It‘s something dumb I did which effects every day of my stupid life. It‘s easier to pretend that it didn‘t happen.”

They were quiet again after that, long enough that Ymir began to drowse off. She was dragged back to consciousness by Historia’s voice.

“I hate myself too, sometimes.” Historia said hoarsely.

“Come here.” Ymir said faintly, tugging on Historia’s hand. 

Historia shuffled forwards until she was curled up close to Ymir, who flung an arm around her waist protectively. It was friendly and comforting and Historia melted into the embrace. She felt the overwhelming urge to cry, and blamed it on the alcohol. She felt Ymir mumble something into her hair.

“What?” She whispered.

“Do you wanna know why I invited you up here that day? When I didn’t even know you?”

“Well, yeah.” Historia replied, curling her fingers into the collar of Ymir’s t-shirt. 

“Because I had a good feeling about you. You seemed like the sort of person I wanted around, and you’ve gotta know by now that I want very few people to be around me.” She paused and Historia felt Ymir’s hand begin to wind it’s way through her hair.

“You have this kinda ‘I don’t give a fuck’ mentality and attitude which I really like.” Historia said suddenly. Ymir laughed and tugged gently on Historia’s hair.

“You’re so wrong. Oh man, Historia. I give a fuck about everything. I care about what people think about me so much.”

Historia was surprised by the bitterness in Ymir’s voice. “I can’t think about what people could say about you that would bother you.” She said honestly. “I didn’t know you let people get to you like that.”

Historia felt Ymir tense up against her, and draw back slightly. This close, Historia could see Ymir was giving her a look of disbelief.

“What do you mean? My wrists are all...scarred up. You think that doesn’t get a bit of attention from people? You’re pretty much the first person ever who’s not pointed them out.” 

“I’m sorry.” Historia said quietly. She’d obviously struck a nerve and regretted it.

“Fuck, Historia. I’m not mad at you. I just -” Ymir stopped abruptly and ducked her head, tucking her chin against her chest for a moment. When she looked back up at Historia she looked tired. “I’m just angry because people are judgemental assholes. It doesn't define me. It's not my defining fucking feature, okay. I play in a band. I make art. I'm independent. I'm all these fuckin' things but the one thing people focus on is how I chose to hate my body. If I had hated myself quietly, no one would have a problem with it, but because I'm getting in everyone's faces with my self hate...that's when it becomes a fuckin' problem. If you're quiet and small no one fuckin' cares. I'm not defining myself by what I did when I was young and dumb and feeling low and alone.” She spat out the words venomously and when she finished she deflated slightly and drew closer to Historia again.

“Are we having a feelings jam right now?” Historia asked, feeling herself smile as Ymir laughed into her neck.

“Hell yeah we are. Don’t you know anything about drunk sleepovers? 3am is the opportune time for a feelings jam.” Ymir said, sounding slightly less upset. She’d withdrawn from Historia’s neck, at least. “Look, I’m really drunk right now, so what I’m about to do can be totally passed off and ignored in the morning, if you like.”

“What?”

Ymir’s hands went to the front of her t-shirt, gently tugging. Historia felt her heart rate speed up but she moved with it, finding herself so close to Ymir she could feel her breath ghosting across her lips. Historia’s heart was in her mouth, mind racing. 

“Ymir?” She said quietly, her hands clenching and unclenching on Ymir’s waist. Ymir made a little sound in the back of her throat which made Historia flush with heat.

Without a word, she closed the gap between their mouths, stomach fluttering as Ymir gasped against her lips. Historia felt Ymir’s fingers twitch on the collar of her shirt before sliding up to cup the back of Historia’s neck. They broke apart and Historia cast around for Ymir’s other hand. Their fingers touched. Ymir stayed quiet.

They kissed again. Ymir tasted of cigarettes and vodka. Her hands were rough and she made pretty noises against Historia’s lips that made Historia flush with heat. The only other sound was the steady hammering of Historia’s heart.

Historia untangled their fingers and brought a tentative hand to Ymir’s shoulder, tugging gently to curve her body towards her. She ran her hands down Ymir’s back, feeling the bumps of her ribs through her worn t-shirt, her warm skin. Ymir wasn’t a gentle kisser, she was all over the place. One second she was kissing Historia earnestly on the lips, the next she was trailing soft, open mouthed kisses to her jaw and throat. Historia just tipped her head back and let Ymir kiss her however she liked, sighing when she returned to Historia’s lips to brush her tongue over them. 

Historia eased her fingers in Ymir’s hair to anchor her in place, cupping the back of her head and arching up against her. Her other hand passed down Ymir’s body, following the curve of her side, coming to a rest in the dip of her narrow waist. Ymir felt so solid and real under her hand, and she squeezed, just to make sure it was all real. That it was actually Ymir, sliding her hand under the hem of Historia’s t-shirt to graze her fingers over her stomach. She ducked her head to press a kiss to the skin of Ymir’s neck, worrying the skin slightly with her teeth. Ymir made a pleased noise in the back of her throat.

When they parted, Historia felt wired, like electricity was jumping under her skin. Ymir just gave her a lazy smile in the dark of the room and pressed a tiny kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“I didn’t know you were into girls.” Historia said after a beat.

“I’m not.” Ymir said softly, rolling onto her back to stare up at the ceiling. Historia felt something in her chest plummet. 

“Then, what was -”

Ymir cut her off unexpectedly. “I like _you_.” She huffed out a little laugh and turned her head so she was looking at Historia. “I’m just into you, I guess.”

“Oh.” Was all Historia had to say. Her lips felt swollen and sensitive. She could still taste Ymir in her mouth. She licked her lips and tasted blood from Ymir‘s split lip. She didn’t know what to say. She felt reach out for her hand in the darkness.

Neither of them said anything for a long while, wrapped in the quiet of the flat and of each other.

\-----------

When Historia woke up the next morning, her head was pounding and her mouth felt like something had died in it. She lay still for a few minutes, coming back to her body and trying to work out the details from the previous night.

She remembered trying to keep up with Ymir’s steady drinking, remembered laughing until she cried at the man in the apartment opposite. She remembered throwing up, but after that - not a lot. Something vague nagged at her, but she shoved it back. She had all day to attempt to recall last night. Right now all she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and die. 

She became aware by degrees that the shower was running, and blinked open her eyes blearily. The space in the bed next to her was still warm, so Ymir must have just gotten up. Her glasses were sitting on the nearest stack of books and she slipped them on before checking her watch for the time. One o’clock. She had work in two hours. She buried her face into the pillow and groaned.

She must have fallen asleep then, because next thing she knew Ymir was sitting on the floor next to her and her glasses were making a serious groove in the side of her face.

“Good morning.” Ymir said cheerfully. Way too cheerfully for someone who had drunk more than Historia last night. Her bruises looked worse in the harsh daylight.

“I think my head’s gonna come off.” Historia mumbled, rolling onto her back to give Ymir a dirty look. “Doesn‘t your head hurt?”

Ymir shrugged. “Like, yeah. I’m not a baby about it though.” She shot Historia a quick smile that was part mocking and part…hesitant? “Uh, d’you want breakfast?”

Historia shook her head wordlessly and watched as Ymir made her way to the kitchen and began hunting for eggs and bread. She was wearing the clothes she’d worn to bed last night, because Ymir was gross like that and would put dirty clothes on straight out of the shower. Her hair was still damp and making the back of her grey t-shirt slightly wet on the collar. The collar which was slightly stretched out, and Historia could see a red mark on her neck which barely stood out from her dark skin. 

Historia’s stomach lurched, and all at once, the memories from last night came flooding back to her. “Oh, fuck.” She muttered, burying her face in her hands.

“Huh?” Ymir turned round, eyeing Historia warily. “Are you okay? Don’t throw up in my bed.”

“I just - ah. I’ve got to get to work!” Historia blurted out stupidly, giving Ymir a desperate smile. “I’m gonna be late!” She said, diving out of Ymir’s bed before pulling on her jeans and locating her shoes from where she’d kicked them off last night.

“Historia-” Ymir began, but Historia was already talking over her.

“I’ll come round soon okay? I just -” She cut herself off. “Where’re my car keys?”

“They’re on the table.” Ymir murmured, staring at her for a moment longer before turning back to the stove. Historia stared at her stiff back for a moment before snatching her keys up from the table. Ymir sounded upset, and Historia knew she was being a tool, but she really needed to be alone and have time to collect her thoughts. _How could she be so stupid?_

She made a hasty exit, and tried to ignore the crash she heard behind her as she walked toward the lift. That was probably the frying pan. There were many reasons why Ymir didn’t cook, and her temper was just one of them. Historia couldn’t count the times she’d had to talk Ymir out taking her anger out on the stove.

Once in the safety of her car, Historia let herself slump forward over the steering wheel. A steady headache was building behind her eyes and she felt sick to her stomach. The thought of a five hour shift in the coffee shop was almost bad enough to bring her to tears. She thumped her head against the steering wheel a couple of times, despite her headache, because she was an idiot who managed to fuck up anything good in her life. 

“You’re an idiot.” She said to herself matter-of-factly as she started up the car, more for warmth than anything. The interior of the car was freezing and she’d left her coat and scarf inside Ymir’s flat. “You’re an idiot who makes awful decisions when drunk and because of that will die alone and friendless.”

She checked her watch and groaned. She still had an hour before her shift started and she didn’t fancy going home and having to see Hanji who had some sort of sixth sense for underage drinking. Maybe she could go to the coffee shop and see if Levi was there. She nodded to herself, “Okay, that’s the plan.”

Levi wasn’t there when she entered the shop, the bell over the door tinkling like some sort of personal headache inducer. Annie, however, was there, and wasted no time in telling Historia how terrible she looked.

“Jesus, are you hung over?” She asked disbelievingly, as Historia slunk behind the counter and let herself slide to the floor. She nodded sullenly, and Annie snorted. “You look awful.”

“Yeah, I know.” Historia replied, closing her eyes and letting the familiar sounds of the coffee shop wash over her. She zoned out for a second and was dragged back by Annie’s voice.

“D’you want me to make you a coffee?”

“ _Please_.” 

Historia had to admit, Annie made a really great coffee. She sat behind the counter nursing it and feeling herself become human again as she listened to Annie tell her about one of the dudes she lived with. Turned out he had a crush on Annie but was too scared to tell her.

“I told him we could give it a go.” Annie said offhandedly. Historia wished her love life was as easy as her colleague’s. 

“So who’s that girl you’re always giving rides to?” Annie asked archly, leaning against the coffee machine casually. She smirked and nudged Historia with the tip of her shoe. “Me, Reiner and Bert have a bet whether she’s your girlfriend or not.” Bert was Annie’s roommate and current boyfriend, and Reiner was her other roommate.

Historia gave a long suffering sigh and slapped Annie’s foot away. “First off, her name’s Ymir. Secondly, she’s not my girlfriend. She’s just a friend.”

“I saw you holding her hand.”

“Friends hold hands.” Historia shot back, feeling less and less like coming into work was a good idea at all. Annie was nice and all, but she was like a pitbull. Once she had something in her grasp, she wouldn’t let go so easily. “It’s complicated.” She muttered, casting her eyes away. She really needed to get what happened last night off her chest, but it wasn’t going to happen twenty minutes before her shift was meant to start, and it wasn’t going to happen with Annie.

Just as she was putting her apron on, Levi appeared from the back. He took one look at her and frowned.

“You look terrible.” 

Annie interjected with a dry, “She’s hung over.” and Historia began to wonder if she could pull off a double homicide in a fairly crowded coffee shop without anyone noticing. 

“Don’t tell Hanji.” was all she said, to which Levi shrugged. “Thanks.”

Even though her headache hadn’t abated much, and she was definitely feeling slow and awkward on her feet, Historia didn’t find her shift as bad as she thought she would have. To be honest, her and Annie worked together amazingly well with filling orders and making drinks, and it helped take her mind off Ymir for a little bit.

“So how’s it complicated?” Annie asked as she accepted money from a gaggle of teenage girls. “Three green tea lattes, one hot chocolate.” She added, almost as an afterthought.

“Now isn’t really the time.” Historia said over the hiss of the coffee machine. “I could use some help here.” 

Annie took over the single hot chocolate, leaving Historia to make the lattes. She poured the ice cubes into the blender and pressed it just as Annie was about to speak. She did this three times, the expression on Annie’s face getting darker each time she did it.

“I don‘t even care.” Annie said, annoyed, as she handed the girls the tray with their drinks on it. 

“Okay, good.” Historia said tiredly. 

“You’re probably just over thinking it anyway.” She said coldly, propping her elbows on the counter. Historia shot her a dirty look, knowing she was probably completely right.

\-----------

Hanji was the only viable option for Historia to unload on. It was kind of unfair to her after she’d been at work all day - to have to come home and listen to Historia’s dumb problems, but that’s what she’d signed up for when she’d taken Historia in, apparently.

Hanji wasn’t home when Historia got in, so she took the time to have a much needed shower. The white noise of the water calmed her headache and gave her a brief respite from her thoughts of Ymir as she stood under it. She always had the shower on blazingly hot, so when she stepped out after an inordinate amount of time, the cold air hit her like a punch. Grumbling, she wrapped a towel around herself and made her way to her bedroom.

Hanji had come in whilst she was showering, with what looked like a takeaway Chinese. Historia’s stomach growled loudly and she tried to cast her mind back to what she’d eaten that day. Apart from the two coffees at work, she hadn’t had anything. Feeling slightly wobbly from hunger, she quickly changed before going out to join Hanji in the kitchen.

“Levi told me you came into work hung over today.” Hanji said conversationally as she unpacked the boxes of food. 

“Traitor.” Historia said mildly, taking a seat at the table and pulling a box of egg fried rice towards herself. The thought of some seriously greasy food was really appealing to her all of a sudden.

“He also told me you had a panic attack yesterday.” She said, getting up to grab herself a beer from the fridge. “Is that why you didn’t come home last night?”

Okay, now Historia felt bad. She hadn’t even thought of Hanji last night, and didn’t even think to call or leave a message telling her where she was. She lowered her fork and gave Hanji an apologetic look. “I’m really sorry, I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Hanji sighed and rubbed her face, pressing the heel of her palm into her eye and dislodging her glasses. “Where did you stay? With your friend?” She asked tiredly. If it was one thing Historia was grateful for, it was that Hanji wasn’t the sort to shout. It made her life a whole lot less stressful.

“With Ymir, yeah.” She said, wondering when was the right time to broach the subject of Ymir with Hanji. They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes before Hanji broke it.

“Your father asked after you today.” She said through a mouthful of noodles. “He rang me up in work, for God’s sake.” Historia almost dropped her fork in shock, her stomach twisting strangely, like a mix of anticipation and fear.

“What did he say?” She said, staring at Hanji with wide eyes, food forgotten in front of her.

“He asked what year you were in in school, then asked when you’re finishing.” Hanji paused to eat. “If I’m not mistaken, he has plans for you after you finish school.”

Historia felt a bolt of suspicion and anger shiver up her spine, coupling with the familiar ache of loss in her stomach. She pushed away her food, suddenly not hungry. Trust her father to not even know what year she was in school, trust him to make her want to see him again after abandoning her after her mother’s death. He had left her to live with her grandparents, and when she had passed away, had brought her to live with Hanji, who had worked with him in the past. Historia had been living with Hanji for about three years, and in that time she had barely seen her father, and even then it was the briefest of meetings. Hanji seemed to sense the change in atmosphere and cast Historia an apologetic look.

“At least he’s thinking of you.” She said optimistically, to which Historia snorted. He probably wanted to use her as some sort of part in his religion. She didn’t voice this however, since Hanji also didn‘t particularly approve of her father‘s religion. She let silence wash over them for a few minutes as they ate their food, just long enough to signal an end to the previous conversation.

“I’ve got girl problems.” She said offhandedly, after an appropriate period of disapproving silence from her and guilty silence from Hanji.

“Mmhm?” Hanji hummed interestedly through a mouthful of rice. She swallowed. “Who is it? Not that blonde girl you work with, right?”

Historia stared at her, fork half way to her mouth. “Hanji! No! She’s straight!” She exclaimed.

Hanji’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “So this girl isn’t? Who is it?”

Historia dropped her gaze to her bowl, chasing a stray pea around with the prongs of her fork. “It’s Ymir.” 

Hanji widened her eyes at her in surprise, and gestured for her to go on, mouth full of food. Historia rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. She could always count on Hanji to give Historia her full attention at least. 

“Well, I don’t know if she’s not straight.” Historia amended, rubbing her thumb over a dent in the table. “She said she wasn’t into girls, but that she was into me. And she kissed me. But we were quite drunk.” She said the last part quietly and pressed her nail into the table, marking it slightly.

“Whoa.” Hanji said, sounding impressed. “Romantic.”

“Shut up.” Historia said peevishly. “I’m so confused. I’m pretty sure she just kissed me because she was drunk.” She admitted, picking up her fork again to eat some food. She felt Hanji’s foot nudge her leg under the table.

“You’re over thinking it again.” Hanji said reassuringly. “What was she like the next morning?”

Historia buried her face in her hands. “I ran away.” She said dejectedly.

Hanji groaned. “Historia, you’re an idiot.”

Like Hanji needed to tell her. “I know.” 

Hanji stood up and began clearing away the remnants of their meal, dumping the cutlery and bowls in the dishwasher and clearing the rubbish away in the bin. Historia watched her disinterestedly, nail still carving a groove into the veneer of the table top. “Do you think I should have stayed?”

Hanji paused in her clearing up to give her a disbelieving look. “Yes, I think you should have stayed. You should go see her tomorrow and clear stuff up with her.”

Historia sighed and bent her head to rest it against the table. “She’s mad at me. I think she threw a frying pan after I left.”

Hanji slumped back into the chair opposite Historia and hung her head. Christa was expecting some sort of rebuke, but all Hanji said was, “You don’t usually go for people with bad tempers.” Then she laughed.

“Nobody’s perfect.” Historia mumbled into the table top.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading and leaving kudos ur all amazing and let's get married


	5. Chapter 5

The first thing Historia did after school on Monday was drop by Ymir’s flat to see if she was in. Chances were, she would be - she never really seemed to go anywhere that wasn’t work. If she wasn’t in, she was probably down the beach. Historia had brought an extra jumper just in case. She didn’t fancy freezing to death on the beach whilst waiting for Ymir to stop giving her the silent treatment.

As she walked down the long corridor to Ymir’s flat she reflected on the last argument she and Ymir had had. It had been over something dumb like Ymir smoking all over Historia and getting ash on her clothes or something equally annoying and just so _Ymir_ that Historia caught herself smiling. Ymir always blew smoke in her face if Historia was annoying her, which made Historia retaliate with something Ymir hated, like undoing her shoelaces or ripping the duct tape off her boots. Still smiling faintly, she came to a stop outside Ymir’s door. There was a permanent mark near the foot of the door from Ymir kicking it open after unlocking it.

Hesitantly, Historia raised her hand to knock on the door. Usually, she’d just barge in, but it felt different today, like this was one particular bump in their friendship which couldn’t be covered over by Historia sneaking Ymir a coffee out of work or by Ymir plaiting Historia’s hair for her.

No one answered. Historia waited a minute, then knocked again. There was no noise from behind the door, and no answer. After dithering for a moment, she swung her satchel off her shoulder and crouched down to rummage through it. She produced a pen and a receipt (for Pizza Hut, of all places) and scrawled a quick note for Ymir before slipping it under her door. Whether Ymir was genuinely out or not, she’d get Historia’s message. Shoving her pen back in her bag, Historia wondered (not for the first time) whether she could have fallen for someone who at least didn’t lose every mobile phone they ever bought.

Considering her track record, it was almost impossible.

\----------

A couple of hours after her visit to Ymir’s flat, Historia found herself walking along Broad Street again, only this time towards the park adjacent. It was about a five minute walk from Ymir’s block of flats and as run down as you’d expect. A couple of skeletal trees stood out every few yards and the floor was covered in rotting, fallen leaves. It looked pretty bleak, especially in the grey twilight, but Historia liked it. The leaves gave off an earthy, autumnal smell and the air was clear and sharp. It was freezing though, and Historia pulled the collar of her jacket up against the chill. She was glad she’d opted for the extra jumper.

Ymir was already sitting on a bench when Historia arrived. She felt a mixture of anticipation and fear curl in her stomach as she approached the other girl. Ymir was wearing her jacket along with a huge knitted scarf and a hat pulled down over her ears. Her fringe was sticking out the front at an odd angle, and the apples of her cheeks were pink from the cold, as was the tip of her nose. She had a sketchbook open on her knees, and her skateboard was propped up on the bench next to her leg. Historia wondered how long she’d been sitting here.

“Hey.” Historia said nervously, standing in front of Ymir. She was unsure whether she should sit down or not. Ymir hadn’t even glanced up from her drawing to greet her.

“You’re in my light.” Ymir said brusquely, finally looking up and fixing Historia with a dark look. “Sit down already.” Historia complied but scowled at her, noticing dumbly that Ymir had put her nose stud back in.

“Uh-”

“Lemme finish this.” Ymir muttered, bending her head again to resume drawing. Historia put her hands in her pockets and hunched her shoulders, settling in for a long wait. The bench was cold and slightly damp and she could feel it seeping through her jeans. Surreptitiously, she leaned closer to Ymir to have a look at what she was drawing.

“That’s really good.” She said, smiling a little when Ymir shrugged. Ymir had a rough style to her art that Historia appreciated. It suited her. What she was drawing looked like a poster or something. Historia wondered if Ymir would draw a couple of posters advertising the coffee shop - that would look cool. She mulled it over as Ymir drew, listening to the birds and enjoying the cold, crisp air. When she looked back over to Ymir to see how her drawing was going she caught sight of the bruise on the side of her face she had turned away from Historia, and her swollen lip. The bruise had purpled and spread, the edges a mottled yellow. Historia blinked. It was hard to imagine Saturday night had happened at all.

It was only when the light really started to fade, and Historia began to wonder if her joints would ever unfreeze, that Ymir closed her sketchbook and placed it carefully to the side. She didn’t look at Historia, just drew her coat closer to her and tucked her hands into her armpits. Historia felt a familiar ball of trepidation form in the pit of her stomach. 

“I’m sorry.” She said, just to get the ball rolling. Ymir was champion of the cold shoulder and stubborn as well. She could draw this out for a long time if she wanted. Ymir didn’t reply. “I got scared.”

Ymir let out a short, sardonic laugh and produced her lighter and a cigarette. The smell of nicotine mixed pleasantly with the cold smell of winter. Historia noticed that Ymir grimaced slightly as she withdrew the cigarette from her lips, and saw that her split lip had opened up and was bleeding again. Historia vividly remembered the feel of the cut against her lips, and felt herself blush hotly. “Don’t laugh.” She muttered.

“I’m sorry, but you’re the one having a big gay freakout here?” Ymir said in disbelief, exhaling sharply and almost stumbling over her words. “You’re the gay one! I’ve never even kissed a girl before! I should be the one getting scared and running off, not you!”

Historia didn’t really have anything to say to that, and kept her mouth shut. It was best to let Ymir run her mouth until she calmed down.

“Don’t just fuckin’…sit there!” Ymir said angrily, her voice rising. “You’re the one who told me to meet you here to ‘talk’, Historia,”- She made air quotes around the word ‘talk’ and inadvertently dropped ash onto her jeans. She didn’t notice and barrelled on. “So talk!”

Apart from repeating herself and apologising again, Historia had no idea what to say. She knew she was being unfair and acting like a bit of a tool, but she didn’t know how verbalise her fears to Ymir. “I was just afraid you were gonna regret kissing me, or that it was gonna make it weird between us. I don’t know.” She said eventually, hiding her face in the folds of her scarf.

Ymir’s tone was a mix of disbelief and exasperation. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah I know.” Historia mumbled to herself.

“I started it. What makes you think I’d regret it? I was scared you were gonna regret it!” Ymir exclaimed. She was turned fully towards Historia now, her cigarette burning forgotten in her hand. She had a smudge of pencil across the freckles on her nose, and Historia suddenly had the unbidden urge to laugh. “Are you laughing at me?”

Historia straightened her face hurriedly. “No! No, sorry. You just-” She raised her own finger to her face and gestured to where the mark was. “Pencil smudge.” She said stupidly. Giving her a dirty look, Ymir scrubbed at it with her sleeve. “Look, Ymir, there was no way in hell I’d regret kissing you, okay. I’ve had a crush on you for months.” It was true. Historia wasn’t exactly sure when her view of Ymir had changed from ‘mildly intimidating cute girl who I want to hang out with and listen to music with’, to ‘cute girl whose neck I want to kiss and whose bedhead gives me heart palpitations.’ She didn’t vocalise this to Ymir though. 

“Months, huh?” Ymir said. Historia nodded, avoiding her eyes.

“Are you sure you didn’t kiss me just because you were drunk?” Historia said quickly, clenching and unclenching her fists in her pockets. Ymir rolled her eyes at her.

“Positive.”

“Okay.” Historia muttered, feeling the tense atmosphere deflate. “So you actually wanted to kiss me.”

“Yes Christa, I wanted your hot bod.” Ymir deadpanned, taking a drag on her cigarette and blowing the smoke into Historia’s face, making her splutter angrily, before stubbing it out on the seat of the bench. “And if you’re done being stupid, it’d be pretty cool if we did it again.”

“I - oh. Okay. Yeah.” Historia stumbled over her words, instantly forgetting about how she was supposed to be pissed at Ymir for smoking all over her. Ymir gave her a mocking smile, all traces of her earlier anger gone. She really did have a short fuse, but once everything was cleared up, she never lingered over an argument.

Kissing Ymir on a damp bench in the dead of winter probably wasn’t the nicest thing that Historia could imagine, but it was definitely up there. Ymir’s hands were freezing as she wound them around Historia’s neck, and lips were just as cold. Historia let her hands creep under Ymir’s jacket to rest comfortably on her warm waist. When they broke apart Ymir huffed out a little laugh against Historia’s lips.

“You’re not gonna run away, right?” She said teasingly, ducking her head to press a quick kiss to Historia’s pulse point. Historia scowled and squeezed Ymir’s waist, making her yelp and twist away. “Stop it!”

“Sorry, sorry.” Historia laughed, feeling the cloud of dread she’d been living under since Sunday morning fade away. She wet her finger with the tip of her tongue and gently rubbed the remaining smudge off of Ymir’s nose, before curving her hand around Ymir‘s jaw. Ymir heaved an exasperated sigh into Historia’s palm and tilted her head to nip at her fingers.

“C’mon, let’s walk back to mine. It’s getting dark and this place is where all the gangs hang out.” She stood up and gathered up her things. “Or at least, we used to.” She said, before flashing Historia a quick smile. “Hold my sketchbook, willya? I learnt a new trick the other day and didn’t get a chance to show you.”

Giving Ymir a long suffering look, Historia took a step back to watch. “I’ve seen you fall off your skateboard before, you know.” She said wryly. “It’s not a new trick.”

Ymir gave her the middle finger. “Fuck you, glasses.”

\---------

By New Year, Historia had a hard time remembering what her life was like before she’d met Ymir. All she’d done before was sit around in her room and listen to music or do her homework. She’d go to work on a Saturday then get a take away with Hanji if she wasn’t working. She’d spend her whole school day trying to be invisible before going home and taking it all out on Hanji.

Her and Ymir’s relationship hadn’t changed a lot. She still went on drives with Ymir, parking near the beach and sharing a cigarette in the warm, dark interior of the car, as the wind howled outside. Meeting Ymir after school and pushing her off as she tried to dig her frozen hands under Historia’s school uniform had become habitual before. So had telling Ymir about her day at school and laughing when Ymir got more pissed about people in Historia’s class than Historia did. The small warm feeling in her chest when Ymir called Historia her ‘girlfriend’, however, was new.

“I don’t know what to wear to this party tonight.” Ymir piped up, her voice breaking through Historia’s thoughts. 

Historia snorted. “Let me guess - that old coat, your one pair of jeans that don’t have one of the back pockets hanging off, and a mildly dirty t-shirt.” She paused. “Oh, and your boots.”

“Oh, what, and you’re not gonna wear your fuckin’ cardigan and dress combo? Shut up.” Ymir tried to sound pissed off, but it was half hearted at the most, and the smirk she gave Historia afterward took all the sting out of the comment. Historia gave her a look over her books that were spread out all over Ymir’s coffee table, and Ymir flipped her off good naturedly. “You’re right anyway.” She muttered, pausing as she carefully flipped a burger in the pan on the stove. “There’s no need to wear anything nice, no one else is gonna look all dressed up.”

Historia hummed absently, tapping her pen on the table as she tried to memorise a maths formula that had been bugging her for a few minutes. Her mind wandered to the prospect of having to go to this party tonight at one of Ymir’s friend’s houses. Apparently the guy who had invited her went to college locally, and Ymir had known him for a while. Historia wondered whether they’d dated, but was too scared to ask. 

Ymir ate her food whilst leaning against the counter, because she was a pig, all the while casting disgusted looks at Historia’s books. “I can’t believe you’re taking your mocks so seriously.” 

Historia shrugged one shoulder and made a non-committal noise. “Nice to see that you managed to cook something without taking your temper out on the stove.”

Ymir gave her a dirty look as she leaned over to put the pan in the sink. “Whatever. So are you coming to the party tonight, or are you gonna stay in and study?” The last part sounded like a challenge, and the way Ymir tilted her chin and looked down her nose at Historia told her that in fact, yes, that was a challenge. Historia shook her head because she didn’t want it to be a _challenge_ except it was kind of impossible because of the way Ymir took things up to eleven all the goddamn time.

“Yeah, I’ll come.” Historia said offhandedly, not rising to the bait. “It’d be cool to meet some of your friends.” Inside, Historia was quaking. She hated parties, she hated crowded places, she hated drunk people and the thought of meeting Ymir’s friends made her feel a bit sick.

Ymir sat down on the floor by Historia’s feet, leaning back against the sofa and resting her head on Historia’s knee. Historia smiled and reached down to push Ymir’s fringe out of her face - she desperately needed a haircut, her fringe was overgrown and covering her eyes constantly unless Ymir pushed it back. “You don’t have to come, y’know.” Ymir said matter-of-factly. “I know you don’t like parties. I wasn’t pressuring you.”

Historia shook her head and tugged on Ymir’s hair lightly. “Nah, I’d like to.”

Ymir grinned up at her, tipping her head back against Historia’s thigh. “We can leave whenever you want to.”

Historia nodded easily. “Want me to cut your fringe?”

Ymir sighed. “I thought you were never gonna offer.”

\-------

The party wasn’t very far away but Historia had opted out of driving in case she drunk too much. Ymir had refused as well because she knew mixing her meds and alcohol made her sleepy, so she managed to secure a lift from a friend who lived nearby.

The friend turned out to be a huge, heavyset white guy with a broken nose and an eyebrow stud called Charlie. His car stunk of pot and he and Ymir spent the whole car ride laughing uproariously about his German metal band fronted by his Polish girlfriend, who sat in the back with Historia and smelt of patchouli oil and wore tiny, round Lennon-esque glasses. As far as Historia could tell, neither of them were German. She was also so far out of her comfort zone it was unbelievable.

The house was fairly full when they arrived, Ymir bidding a cheerful goodbye to Charlie and his girlfriend with promises to hang out sometime soon. Historia stuck close to Ymir’s side and tried to avoid eye contact, smiling and bidding a hasty goodbye as Ymir led her away.

Ymir knew everyone, apparently. They couldn’t walk five steps without being accosted by someone who wanted to say hi and catch up. “Is there anyone here you don’t know?” Historia hissed to Ymir as they navigated themselves to the kitchen to grab a drink. Ymir shook her head and planted a kiss on the top of Historia’s head.

“Doubt it. I wonder where Jean is.” Eyes scanning the crowd, she pressed a beer from the fridge into Historia’s hands before helping herself to one. Historia clutched the cold can to her chest like an anchor as Ymir moved into the living room, Historia following in her wake.

The party wasn’t really what Historia had been expecting. She was used to the dumb teenage parties people in her year threw, with a lot of loud music and people getting too drunk to function. This was a college party, and it was a lot more relaxed than she had anticipated. The living room held about twenty people in various stages of inebriation, scattered over the floor and sofas. Someone was passing a joint around, and there was music playing on the stereo that Historia actually recognised. 

“Who’s Jean?” She asked Ymir, but before she could answer, a loud voice behind them made them both turn round.

“Who wants to know?”

“Jean. Hey.” Ymir said lazily, letting herself be drawn into a hug by the tall skinny guy who had spoken. When he pulled away and held a hand out for Historia to shake, she was a little taken aback. He had an long, friendly face with a sloping nose and a disarming smile. His hair was shaved into an undercut, and he had a septum piercing. He was cute, in the same way that Ymir was pretty. Unconventional. Historia shook his hand hesitantly. He had nice hands - wide and gangly, the knuckles too big for the rest of them, the fingers long and blunt.

“Hi, sorry. I’m Historia.” She said, looking at Ymir out of the corner of her eye. Ymir was staring calculatingly at Jean, but her hand was lightly touching the small of Historia’s back. Historia took a quick gulp of the cool beer in her hand and gave Jean a nervous smile.

“Historia, huh. So you’re Ymir’s new…friend?” The way he paused before the word ‘friend’ made it clear that he knew exactly what she was to Ymir, but she didn’t feel too intimidated, because he was still smiling warmly at her. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Is that Ymir’s coat?” He pointed at the coat Ymir had let her wear and grinned.

“I let her borrow it.” Ymir said haughtily, catching Historia’s eye and grinning. “She didn’t have any clean clothes with her.” Historia ducked her head, slightly mortified. God, she was such a cliché. Wearing her girlfriend’s gross army jacket that smelt like her deodorant and cigarettes with her chapstick still in its pocket. She might as well turn up with a big lovebite on her neck spelling out _‘I’m wearing my girlfriend’s clothes since I haven’t been home in a week because of all the lesbian sex we’ve been having.’_ She covertly stepped on Ymir’s foot. Hard.

“I bought her that coat, you know.” Jean said, talking over Ymir’s abortive sounds of anger. “Back when she was a gutter rat with a shaved head and about a thousand holes in her face.” He laughed good naturedly and patted Historia on the shoulder with one of his big hands. “I’ll catch you around.”

Historia watched as he walked out of the room, greeting a couple of people as he went. She guessed he was the one whose house it was, then. “You fucked him, right?” She asked Ymir, who was also staring after him, but snapped her gaze back to Historia when she spoke.

“Yeah.” She said thoughtfully. “Do you mind?”

Historia thought it over. “Nah.”

“He’s with a guy now.”

“Okay.”

“Do you wanna get stoned?”

“Not really.” Historia wrinkled her nose. When she caught Ymir’s expression she smiled and pushed her shoulder lightly. “You can, I’ll just sit next to you.”

Ymir shrugged one shoulder, taking a long drink from her beer. “Nah, it’d only be fun if we both did it. Wanna go upstairs and make out?” She shot Historia a look that was probably meant to be lascivious but fell flat. Historia nodded and Ymir grinned and snaked her arm around her waist. “Cool.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [holds open arms] and this kids is just one example of how i can forcibly shoehorn jean into anything i want. sorry.
> 
> ah yeah ok so this chapter is kinda short but like. the next chapter is (finally) going to be smutty and i didn't want to break it up awkwardly and just yeah ok. 
> 
> but anyway yeah thank u everyone who's read this and left comments and kudos i love u all thank you so much :--) hope u enjoy


	6. Chapter 6

They detoured to the kitchen so Ymir could tuck a few beers into the huge pockets of Historia’s coat (the denim jacket Ymir had opted for really wasn’t as generous in the pocket department) then climbed the creaky stairs in search of a bedroom that wasn’t occupied. 

“I think this is Jean’s room.” Ymir whispered, then sniggered. “Weird.” She turned on a desk lamp, bathing the room in a warm yellow light, and set her beer down next to it. Historia hovered nervously near the door, then shut it tight and approached Ymir slowly, who reached out for her with a content expression on her face.

“Hey.” Ymir whispered, curling her hands on the back of Historia’s neck and bringing her mouth to her jaw. “You look cute in my coat.” She pressed a kiss to Historia’s jaw and knotted her fingers into the wisps of hair on Historia’s nape. “You look cute when you’re jealous, too.” 

Historia’s hands that had been curled loosely in the collar of Ymir’s jacket tightened into fists, and made an indignant sound against her lips. “I’m was not jealous!” She extracted herself from Ymir’s kiss and glared.

“Okay, okay, okay.” Ymir mumbled, bringing her lips back to Historia’s. She kissed Historia hard until their breath ran out and turned into a ragged gasp. When they broke apart Ymir tugged her towards the big double bed in the centre of the room. “C’mon.”

Historia hesitated, casting a quick glance back at the door, then back to where Ymir was languidly sprawling herself out on the bed, one booted foot hanging off the side. “You’re getting crap on his bed.” Historia said, taking a step forward. “Are you sure no one will come in?”

Ymir shrugged and propped herself up on her elbows to look at Historia. “Yeah, probably. It doesn’t matter.” She reached into her jacket pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes, offering one to Historia (who declined) before balancing it between her lips. 

Historia took a seat on the bed, kicking off her shoes before moving to sit against the headboard, her legs draped over Ymir’s lap. “So, they know we’re together? They know you’re…” She trailed off, wondering how Ymir labelled herself now. 

There was a long pause from Ymir before she exhaled smoke sharply through her nose and muttered, ‘Like I said, it doesn’t matter.” She moved so she was kneeling between Historia’s legs and leaned forward leisurely to kiss her. Historia responded slowly, still conscious of the noise of the party downstairs, the muffled music and voices. 

Feet kept tramping past the room they were in, and at one point someone knocked, causing Ymir to break away from their lazy kissing to shout a quick “fuck off” over her shoulder. The footsteps retreated and Ymir dropped ash on Historia’s hand from her forgotten cigarette, causing her to hiss and jerk away. “Ah, sorry.” Ymir murmured with a smirk. She reached past Historia to stub her cigarette out on Jean’s bedside table before returning to Historia and twisting her hands into her hair.

It wasn’t that Ymir was an exhibitionist, except that she totally was. Whilst Historia was tensing up at every pair of footsteps walking past the door, Ymir was stripping her jacket and t-shirt off and rolling Historia’s tights down her legs.

“What if someone comes in?” Historia whispered, feeling herself flush when she realised Ymir wasn’t wearing a bra. “ _Ymir_.”

“They won’t.” Ymir mumbled, then laughed when Historia brought her hands up to cup Ymir’s small breasts, running her thumbs over her nipples. Her laughter turned into a light gasp when Historia pressed a kiss to one of her nipples and caught it between her teeth. “You’re cruel.”

Historia had to admit, there was something thrilling about Ymir touching her with the sound of people’s voices just down the hall. She whimpered and tipped her head back against the wall as Ymir pressed a finger inside of her, hips twitching forward helplessly. Ymir huffed out a low laugh as she pushed Historia’s legs further apart with a hand on her thigh. 

“Not so shy now, huh?” She murmured, crooking her fingers inside Historia to make her gasp.

“Shut up.” Historia shot back, voice hitching as Ymir pressed a callused thumb to her clit. “Don’t stop.”

Ymir bent down to catch Historia’s lips in a demanding, open mouthed kiss, nipping on her bottom lip before ducking to kiss at her neck. It was an awkward position, since Ymir was still kneeling between Historia’s open legs, her fingers moving slowly inside of her. The movement made the angle of Ymir’s fingers change and Historia whimpered desperately as she felt a rush of pleasure go through her. “Ah, right there.” She said breathlessly, clamping her hand around Ymir’s wrist to keep her fingers at that amazing angle. 

“Wait, don’t come. I wanna go down on you.” Ymir said, just like that. Historia let go of her wrist eagerly as Ymir pulled her fingers away and settled herself on her belly between her legs. Historia shuddered when she felt Ymir’s warm breath on her as she propped herself up on her elbows and used her still-wet fingers to spread Historia open. 

Ymir was a lot of things, but tentative she was not. Like Historia had said before, she always took things up to eleven, no matter what it was. Apparently, oral sex was no different. She wasted no time in covering Historia’s clit with her lips, flicking her tongue lazily against it and making Historia arch up into her mouth, twisting her fingers into Ymir’s hair.

“Ah, fuck, Ymir.” Historia gritted out, and Ymir moaned against her clit, sending vibrations through her that made her moan in pleasure. When she pressed a finger into Historia, her tongue still trailing achingly slowly over her clit, Historia bit back a loud moan and pressed a hand over her mouth, muttering Ymir’s name into her fingers. She could feel the pressure building up in her clit as Ymir pressed a kiss to it before sucking gently, making her cry out, embarrassingly loud.

“Ymir, I’m gonna -”

“Historia -”

Electricity crackled up her spine as she came, back arching and toes curling against Ymir’s back. She arched up into Ymir’s mouth, once, twice, before sighing and shivering, pushing Ymir’s head away with a whimper as Ymir flicked her tongue over her swollen clit once again.

“Shit, fuck.” Historia breathed, relaxing against the pillows as a post-orgasmic peace settled over her. Everything was amazing. She accepted a rough kiss from Ymir, and let out a little half-sob as Ymir pressed her fingers against her sensitive clit. “Ah, don’t.”

Ymir collapsed on top of her happily, cradling Historia’s face in her hands and smirking down at her. “Did that really just happen?” She murmured, kissing Historia gently whilst she rolled her hips lazy against Historia’s thigh. 

“Yeah, I think so.” Historia answered, still breathless and spaced-out from her orgasm. The sounds from the party were still as loud as ever, but Historia couldn’t really remember hearing them from the moment Ymir had taken her shirt off.

They were interrupted for the second time that night when Ymir was straddling Historia’s hips, grinding down slow and deliberate. The roughness of her jeans was almost uncomfortable through Historia’s underwear, and Historia couldn’t bring herself to care. Ymir ignored the knocking at door, too intent on Historia’s lips to her. Her fingers were tracing tiny, warm circles into the skin of Historia’s neck and Historia couldn’t care less that some dumb frat dude was trying to find a free room to fuck his girlfriend in.

“Christ!” 

Historia hadn’t heard the door open, but she heard the quiet exclamation of surprise. She pushed Ymir off her quickly, and immediately closed her legs and straightened her dress. She could feel herself blushing crimson. Of all the places to be caught in a compromising position, it had to be a party full of people who didn’t know her, and even worse, didn’t know Ymir was with a girl. She had bypassed embarrassment and was currently on another plane of existence.

Ymir seemed decidedly unruffled about the whole thing, although a tenseness in her muscles betrayed her panic. She’d toppled sideways when Historia had shoved her, and stayed in that position, looking up at the couple in the doorway through her hair. “Haven’t you guys ever heard of knocking?” She asked politely, absently placing a hand on Historia’s shin.

“We knocked!” The guy said, and Historia recognised him from the year above her in school - he’d left last year. How embarrassing. His girlfriend, a girl Historia didn’t recognise, was staring openly at Ymir, her expression a mixture of confusion and surprise.

“Ymir?” She asked in a disbelieving tone.

Ymir gave her a mocking smile. “Don’t worry Hannah, you guys can have the room. I was gonna go outside for a smoke anyway.” She righted herself, grabbed her beer from where she’d left it earlier and sauntered out past them. Historia stared after her in disbelief, before grabbing her tights and shoes off the floor and hurrying out past the couple, who were still staring in wide eyed shock after them. A moment later, she heard both her’s and Ymir’s jackets thump on the floor outside the room. Historia shut her eyes and prayed that a fissure would open under her feet and swallow her down. She shrugged her own coat on, feeling the weight of the beers sloshing in the pockets.

Historia found Ymir sitting in the hallway, slumped back against the wall and hands over her face. Historia sat down on the floor and began pulling her tights on. “That was embarrassing.” Understatement of the century. She heard Ymir make an angry noise into her hands. “You okay?”

“I’m just!” Ymir broke off and made a frustrated noise. “That’s not exactly how I wanted to come out!” She slid to the ground, bringing her knees in close to her chest and taking a long drink of her beer. Historia mirrored her, the cans in her pockets clunking against the floor. “Especially not to Franz and fucking Hannah. Fuck.” She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes. Historia made a sympathetic noise and leaned her weight against Ymir’s side as a silent reminder of her presence. They sat in silence for a minute or so, the sound of the party downstairs filtering up the stairs to them.

“Do you think they’ll tell?” Historia said eventually. Ymir tensed up next to her and Historia felt her shrug her shoulders. 

“I don’t know.”

“Do you wanna go back down to the party?” Historia pulled a can out of her pocket and passed it to Ymir as she finished off the one in her hand. She nodded. Ymir looked embarrassed and nervous, two expressions Historia wasn’t used to seeing on her face.

Historia stood, offering her hand to Ymir to help her up. “Hey, Historia.” Ymir kept a tight grip on Historia’s hand and held her in place. Her palm was sweaty and cold. “How did you come out?”

“I was outed.” Historia said shortly, not elaborating even when Ymir made a questioning face at her. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

Ymir just nodded, gathering herself together (as well as going down the hall to pick up her jacket from where it had been dumped) before leading her down the stairs to re-enter the party. 

They hadn’t been gone very long, an hour and a half at the most, but the party was obviously in full swing by the time they rejoined it. Loud music and laughter came from the living room, and the kitchen was full of shouting college guys, some of whom greeted Ymir as she walked past. She waved and smiled, but the emotion didn’t reach her eyes. She was obviously worried about what had just happened, and Historia felt somewhat responsible for it. She just hoped that those two weren’t going to be dicks and tell everyone about Ymir and her.

“Ymir!” A loud voice cut through the crowd, and when Ymir turned the look of vague worry on her face changed to a smirk. A girl and a guy were pushing their way through the press of bodies, and when they reached Ymir they each gave her a tight hug and began talking excitedly. 

“Holy shit, Ymir. You look different.” The girl said in surprise, holding Ymir at arms length and squinting. She appeared to be around the same age as Ymir, maybe twenty or twenty one, with a sharp, heart-shaped face, lazy eyes and thin lips covered in a slash of dark pink lipstick. She was shorter than Ymir, and her thick ash blonde hair was cropped to her jaw. 

“Yeah, I guess so.” Ymir said. “I took all that shit outta my face.” She laughed, and the boy, who _did_ have a lot of shit in his face pulled a mock-angry expression.

“Obviously you couldn’t pull it off, fuckwad.” He shot back at Ymir who laughed again and aimed a punch at the boy’s leather clad shoulder. He was short, not a lot taller than Historia, with big eyes and a sharp jaw. He had short, buzzed hair and an air of excitement about him. Not to mention the piercings. One in his eyebrow, two rings in one nostril, a septum piercing, and a labret as well. Historia had to admit that he pulled it off quite successfully. She couldn’t imagine Ymir with that much metal in her face.

They talked for a little longer, whilst Historia hovered awkwardly by Ymir’s elbow, drinking her beer and looking around the room. Apparently it had been a few years since they’d seen each other, and they seemed determined to fill each other in on every second of their lives since their last meeting. Halfway through Ymir describing the reason behind getting fired from her last job, the girl fixed Historia with a laser eyed stare.

“Ymir, who’s this?” She said, giving Historia a curious look. She seemed friendly enough, but her scrutiny was uncomfortable. 

“Oh! This is Historia.” Ymir said, dropping an arm over Historia’s shoulder and grinning down at her. “Historia, this is Hitch and Connie.” She said, gesturing first to the smiling girl, then to the short boy. Historia smiled and gave them an awkward little wave. “They’re an item.”

“He wishes.” Hitch muttered, her mouth turning up in a smirk. 

“I’ve got a fuckin’ girlfriend, Ymir.“ Connie cast Ymir a disgruntled look that suggested that Ymir said that a lot.

Eventually the two moved on with promises to get in touch again, and Ymir and Historia slipped out to the back garden to have a smoke. Ymir seemed to have recovered from the shock of being found by that couple, and Historia felt a lot more relaxed away from the crowd of people in the house. 

There was a small stone wall at the bottom of the garden, and they sat against that, watching the party inside. There was a small group of people sitting on the patio playing what looked like a drinking game. Ymir leant her head back and sighed, smoke mixing with the cold cloud of her breath. “I’m not drunk enough to deal with this many people from my past.”

Historia passed Ymir her half empty can wordlessly. She downed it and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her cigarette held precariously between her fingers. Ash fell on the collar of her denim jacket and she brushed it off irritably. 

“I haven’t seen Hitch and Connie in two years.” She said. “Ever since I got kicked out of school.” 

“They seem nice.” Historia said noncommittally. She thought Connie seemed nice, but she wasn’t too sure on Hitch.

“They are.” Ymir said wistfully. “But there’s a reason why I haven’t spoken to them for two years. That’s not the kind of thing you just do accidentally.” She took a quick drag on her cigarette and gave Historia a sidelong look. “I guess we just sort of outgrew each other.”

“Why did you come here then?” Historia asked, staring down at the cigarette in her hand. She tried to cast her mind back to when it had become habitual to share a smoke with Ymir.

“I really don’t know.” Ymir was silent for a long moment. “I guess I just wanted to see everyone again. It’s weird though. I’ve changed, but they’re all still exactly the same.” The sounds from the house and the group on the patio drifted across to them, and Historia tried to put herself in Ymir’s place. 

“I suppose it would be weird, seeing all these people again, and them looking at you as if you’re the same person you were however many years ago.”

Ymir hummed in approval, cigarette clamped between her lips. “That’s exactly it.” She muttered, the smoke curling from her mouth as she spoke. Absently, she threaded her fingers through Historia’s. Ymir usually ran hot, whilst Historia was almost constantly cold, but Ymir always had ice cold hands and feet. “It was nice to see Jean though. I haven’t seen him for a few months. He’s a nice guy.” Ymir continued, her thumb stroking methodically over the back of Historia’s hand. “What a shitty party though.” Ymir mumbled, more to herself than Historia.

“I don’t really have a lot to compare it to.” Historia admitted. Ymir smirked.

“Believe me, it’s bad. Compared to the parties Jean used to throw-” She shook her head. “But maybe it’s just because I’m not in there snorting coke off a dude’s ass.” She laughed at the look Historia gave her. “That was a joke.”

“Sorry you didn’t get off.” Historia added, bringing her cigarette to her lips and coughing on the exhale. Ymir just laughed and squeezed her hand.

They smoked in silence for a while, before Ymir stood up and said she was going to go get some beer from inside. “Stay right here.” She said, leaving Historia in the garden by herself. 

The drinking game on the patio had wound down slightly, half the people had gone inside and the remainder were now passing round a joint companionably. Historia watched them as she finished her cigarette, wondering how anyone could actually enjoy an environment like this. It wasn’t like Historia really minded being around people, she loved being around others, but she always needed a good few hours of alone time to recharge her batteries afterwards.

Ymir came back after about ten minutes, and handed Historia a can of beer. She had a plastic cup in her hand filled with something which looked suspicious and smelt like paint stripper. Historia gave it a fearful look as she cracked open her own can, and Ymir raised her cup, grinning.

“Someone started a punch bowl. Pretty sure every alcoholic drink in the house went into that.” She took a sip and grimaced. “Burns.”

“I was thinking -” Historia began, after a moment.

“Oh, mercy!” Ymir said, bringing her hand to her chest. 

Historia gave her a dirty look and continued. “I was thinking, do you wanna get out of here? We’re not far from your flat, we could walk back.”

Ymir shrugged one shoulder, settling back against the wall. “Yeah, whatever. I’ll finish this first though.” She said, tipping her cup to the side. She cast Historia a sideways glance. “Sorry, this was a pretty bad idea, huh?”

Historia made a noncommittal noise. “Just cos I don’t know anyone here.” 

Ymir snorted. “Don’t worry, I feel like I don’t either.” She was obviously trying to make a joke of it, but when Historia looked at her the corners of her mouth were tugging down sadly.

“I know the feeling.” Historia muttered, bringing her beer can to her lips and tipping her head back against the wall behind them. The concrete was rough against her scalp, and cold. She could feel the cold from the ground creeping through her jeans as well. She was almost entirely numb, inside and out. She laughed suddenly. “Actually no, I don’t. I never had friends.”

When she flicked her gaze over to Ymir, to gauge her reaction, she realised that Ymir had been watching her intently the whole time, legs crossed underneath her. Her cup was on the floor in the gap between her legs. Historia had caught her in one of her quiet, introspective moments. Her eyelids drooped slightly, and her irises looked darker than usual. 

“What?” Historia asked, unnerved. 

Ymir snapped out of it, her eyes pulling up to fix on Historia’s. She gave a half-hearted smirk. “Just thinking about how lucky I am.” 

Historia blushed and made a face, shoving Ymir’s leg. “Shut up.” Ymir made an over-exaggerated pouting expression at her and began to crawl towards her, knocking her cup over in the process. 

“Historia Reiss, you’re a doll.” She said in a dumb voice, curling her fingers into the collar of Historia’s jacket and tugging her forwards. Historia recognised Ymir’s usual tactic of trying to lighten the situation. Paired with the amount of alcohol that Ymir had drunk, it was even more ridiculous. Historia made an exasperated noise as Ymir’s lips met hers. 

“There’s people right over there.” She said as soon as she surfaced from the kiss, pressing her lips quickly to the corner of Ymir’s mouth before moving away from her clinging hands. Ymir moved with her, chuckling lightly.

“You owe me one.” She purred, pawing at Historia’s chest.

“Not right now!” Historia hissed.

“There’s so out of it we could be fucking on the grass and they wouldn’t notice.” Ymir said crudely, making Historia grimace. “You still wanna get out of here though?”

“ _Yes_.” Historia said emphatically. She wanted nothing more than to go back to Ymir’s flat, put some music on the stereo, and spend some time alone with her.

“Okay, I wanna say goodbye to Jean, then we can go.” Ymir stood and offered Historia her hand to help her up. When she pulled her to her feet, Ymir took advantage of Historia’s tight grip on her hand to pull her closer. They kissed briefly.

“Are you still worried about those guys telling everyone about us?” Historia said quietly. Ymir rubbed her back of her neck.

“I don’t know, really. I’m not sure. Jean knows, I told him. He might have told everyone for all I know.” She paused and swung their joined hands together gently. “I don’t think he has though. Whatever.” She gave Historia a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

They ended up staying for another hour or so after planning to leave because Ymir got roped into a drinking game whilst saying goodbye to Jean, leaving Historia to herd a rather drunk Ymir home. Historia, however, was almost distressingly sober. What should have been a twenty minute walk dragged on for almost forty minutes because Ymir kept stopping to kiss Historia and touch her face. When they got in, Ymir fumbling with her key until Historia took it off her and opened the door herself, Ymir dropped straight into bed, fully clothed. Historia pulled off Ymir’s boots and her jacket, and after a moments deliberation, her jeans and t-shirt as well. Historia then got undressed herself, and curled up next to her.

Ymir made a pleased noise and curled her arms around Historia’s waist, pulling her against her chest. Ymir was a touchy drunk, but Historia kind of enjoyed it. Their relationship was based on a lot of kidding around and affectionate insults, but Historia knew Ymir cared for her as much as Historia cared for Ymir. It was just nice to know it sometimes. Ymir propped her chin on Historia’s shoulder and planted a soft kiss below her ear.

“What a weird party, huh?” She muttered, hiding her face in Historia’s hair. Historia hummed in response. “Really weird.” Ymir said thoughtfully. “Weeeeird.” She drew out the word and laughed.

“I can’t believe you let yourself get into a drinking game just as we were gonna leave.” Historia said, playing absent-mindedly with Ymir’s lax fingers on her hips.

“Me too.” Ymir sighed against Historia’s neck. “It’s only cos Jean asked me to.” They were silent for a few minutes after that, before Ymir piped up again. “Hey, don’t you owe me something?”

Historia rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop her lips from quirking into a smile. “You’re so fuckin’ pushy.” With a sigh she dropped her hand to Ymir’s hip, squeezing slightly before going lower, pushing her fingers through the hair between Ymir’s legs to brush lightly against Ymir’s clit. She was already wet and Historia heard her breath hitch as she pressed her fingers into her. Ymir arched her back comfortably and made a pleased noise in the back of her throat as Historia pressed her thumb against her clit before she began moving her fingers inside her. 

Ymir hadn’t been wearing a bra, and Historia took advantage of that by bringing her free hand to cup one of her breasts, rolling a dark nipple between her fingertips to make Ymir moan. She ducked her head to swipe her tongue over it, before sucking a mark into the freckled skin there. She let her hand travel further up over Ymir’s soft, dark skin, and breathed in a sharp breath when Ymir tipped her head to the side, baring her throat to her. Historia spared a glance down Ymir’s long, lean body, her freckled breasts and scarred thighs. She could see her hand moving inside Ymir’s underwear, and liked the way Ymir’s stomach muscles looked as she tipped her hips up into Historia’s touch. Historia’s hand inched higher. 

It was all over very quickly when Historia pressed her hand to Ymir’s throat and squeezed. Ymir gasped, swallowed, and came all over Historia’s fingers with a whimper.

Ymir was silent then for a long time, her breathing even and heavy. Historia moved back into her spot facing Ymir and burrowed into the warmth of her body, pressing her cold face into the soft slope of Ymir’s neck.

The flat was still and silent as Ymir breathed a drunken ‘ _I love you_ ’ into the crown of Historia’s head. Historia let herself go still, and pretended she was fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hell yea hell fuckin all right the chapter you've been waiting for


	7. Chapter 7

Historia woke before Ymir the next morning, as she usually did, and gently slipped out of bed to take a shower. She hated how the smell of cigarette smoke always clung to her skin, despite the amount of time she spent around Ymir, and to make matters even grosser, her hair and clothes smelt vaguely of pot as well. She crinkled up her nose and let her clothes drop to the bathroom floor, stepping into the bath and drawing the curtain around her with a metallic rasp.

As she scrubbed last night’s party from her skin, she decided that she’d take her clothes down to the laundry after her shower, as well as the dirty clothes that Ymir always left all over the place. She could even wash Ymir’s coat whilst she was at it. Humming, she massaged Ymir’s cheap two-in-one shampoo into her hair and thought over the events of last night.

She hadn’t been drunk, barely even buzzed, from her just barely two beers, so she was probably in a much better state than Ymir was going to be in when she woke up. Only, because of that, Historia remembered last night in painstaking detail, including the words Ymir had said to her whilst half-asleep.

After she had said that, Historia had feigned sleep for a little bit longer until she was sure Ymir had fallen asleep. It had taken a while for Historia to go to sleep herself. 

She mouthed the words to herself as she ducked her head under the lukewarm spray to wash the soap out. _I love you_. She felt the small fluttering of panic and warmth in her chest that she had felt last night. Should she have said it back? Was she making a huge deal out of this? Maybe Ymir was just throwing it out there, completely light-heartedly. Ymir was rarely ever serious, after all. 

Besides, the girls in her class always said that they loved each other. It was a nice way of showing affection. Historia sighed as she wrung her hair out. She couldn’t even remember the last time someone had told her they loved her.

When she stepped out of the bathroom, towel tightly wrapped around her, the first thing she located was her glasses. She found them balanced on the windowsill (she’d learnt the hard way not to leave her glasses on the floor with Ymir around) and slipped them on, smiling when she saw that Ymir hadn’t moved an inch since she’d gotten up. She was sprawled out over the mattress, taking up more than her fair share of room, face pressed into the pillow. Her mouth was open wide and she was making soft snoring noises. Historia felt a rush of affection for her girlfriend.

She got dressed quickly, throwing on an old t-shirt of Ymir’s, as well as a pair of her own pyjama bottoms that she’d left purposely a week ago. She wasn’t that she couldn’t wear Ymir’s clothes, despite their height difference, but she always left clothes at her flat. It was really nice to see pieces of herself mixed into Ymir’s space. It made her feel at home.

She put her shoes on, gathered up her gross smelling clothes from last night, as well as some of Ymir’s, and headed down to the laundry room.

Ymir’s flat didn’t have a washing machine so Historia had to take the lift down to the basement where a dingy washroom was. There was another woman down there when Historia turned up, who sat in the corner of the room, watching her clothes going round in the drier and looking wiped out. Historia offered her a smile which wasn’t returned as she loaded the clothes into the washing machine. She emptied the pockets of Ymir’s coat before putting it in, revealing half a pack of cigarettes, some loose change, Historia’s phone, skins and tobacco, several crumpled up receipts, and a battered Moleskine notebook.

She flipped through the notebook as their clothes went around in the washing machine, fingering the dog eared pages and running her fingers over the deep impressions made in the paper by Ymir’s heavy hand. Mostly it was made up of drawings, pictures of interesting people Ymir had seen at the bus stop, cute little over stylised drawings and sketchy character studies. Ymir had once described the unemployment line as a free life drawings class. “Only clothed, thank god.” Ymir had laughed.

There was also a lot of writing in there, jammed in between the drawings and doodles. Fragments of lyrics which Ymir had heard and liked, dumb reminders (ASK SUPER ABOUT POSSIBILITY OF CAT - IMPORTANT) and things which Ymir had thought up and written down for posterity. Historia felt the corner of her mouth lift up unconsciously as she read through some of it, trying to decipher the spiky, tangled writing. Ymir’s thought process was weird, but Historia never really noticed it unless she was reading something that she had written down. It jumped around and went off on tangents that Historia couldn’t see the connection in, never really returning to the starting point.

She closed the little book and set it on top of the machine, carefully stacking the other contents of the pockets on top of it. She pressed the home button on her phone to check if she had an texts, and was surprised to see a number of missed calls from Hanji when her screen lit up. She’d ring her later when she was done with the clothes.

She compulsively stacked and restacked the items from Ymir’s pockets as she waited first for the washing to finish, then the dryer. She tried to strike up a conversation with the woman in the corner a couple of times, only to be brushed off relentlessly. She was relieved when the woman collected her now dry clothes and hurried up the stairs.

Ymir was awake by the time Historia let herself back into the flat, sitting on her bed with her back against the wall, gazing blankly into the middle distance. When Historia shut the door with a soft click and dumped the clean clothes onto the bed, she snapped out of it with a jolt. She gave Historia a pathetic look.

“Water.” She said dismally, staring at Historia with wide, beseeching eyes. Historia sighed and poured her a glass of water from the tap.

“How’s your head?” She asked, passing Ymir the glass before shuffling into bed next to her, draping the warm duvet across her legs and pressing her cold toes into Ymir’s bare calf. Ymir just made a sad noise and buried her face in Historia’s neck.

“Why did you let me do that. I was doing so well.” She lamented. “I almost left completely sober.”

“That’s your own fault.” Historia muttered. “Hang on, I just have to call Hanji back.”

Ymir made another sad noise and melted bonelessly against her. Historia propped her chin on Ymir’s head as she held her phone to her ear. It had barely even rung before Hanji was picking it up with a flustered “Hello, Historia.”

“Hi.” She said, biting back a huge yawn. Ymir seemed to have fallen asleep again, glass of water held upright in her hand. Historia smiled and gently removed it. Ymir had an uncanny ability to fall asleep with drinks in her hands and not spill a drop.

“Oh, Historia.” Hanji sounded relieved. “I’ve been trying to get hold of you all morning!” Historia could hear voices in the background, and her curiosity was piqued. 

“Sorry, I was asleep. You knew I was going to a party last night.” She said reproachfully, curling a strand of Ymir’s hair around her finger. “What’s wrong?”

“Your father’s here.” Hanji hissed.

Historia’s heart leapt into her throat and she uttered a strangled “What?” loud enough that Ymir stirred in her lap and grunted sleepily. “What’s he doing there?”

“He’s come to talk to you!” Hanji exclaimed in a whisper. “You’re meant to be at home!”

Historia felt an uneasy sense of dread settle over her. She couldn’t imagine what he father could possibly want with her so urgently that he’d make the effort to see her in person. 

“What does he want?” She said suspiciously. As if she was going to go racing across town just to keep him pleased. She had every intention of taking her time getting home. 

“You should probably hear it from him in person.” Hanji said, suddenly cagey. “Just please get home as soon as possible, we’ve been waiting for you for ages.”

Historia felt vaguely guilty at leaving Hanji to deal with her father alone, but not enough that she was going to hurry home. She told her that she’d be home soon and hung up.

“What did she want?” Ymir muttered groggily against Historia’s thigh.

“My dad’s at home. He wants to talk to me about something.” As she said it, she felt the feeling of dread rise up again. “I guess I should get back. You gonna be okay by yourself?” She said as she extracted herself from under Ymir’s warm, pliant body. Ymir gave her a dark look through half lowered lids.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve been hung-over on my own, Historia.” Her voice tightened as she stretched languidly, throwing out an arm to grasp Historia’s ankle where she was standing by the mattress. “You okay?”

Historia smiled down at her. “Yeah, I’m fine. He probably wants to ask something stupid.” She said offhandedly, shaking her leg until Ymir let go.

Ymir rolled onto her back, flinging an arm across her eyes to block out the light. “If you say so.”

Historia had never explicitly told Ymir the whole business with her father and why she didn’t live with him, but she guessed that Ymir had kinda worked it out. It wasn’t hard to tell that he wanted nothing to do with her, she guessed. 

“Is there anything you want before I go?” Historia asked, pulling on her freshly washed clothes. Ymir made a noise which Historia took for ‘no’ and grabbed at her ankle again as she walked past the bed. Historia avoided it and crouched down. “What?”

“Gimme a kiss.” Ymir said tiredly, and hummed happily when Historia gave her a quick kiss before straightening up. Her stomach lurched when she saw the faint bruising on Ymir’s throat.

“I’ll ring you later.” She said, hand on the doorknob. “Wait, did you find your phone or is this one lost for real?”

“Lost for real.” Ymir mumbled, propping herself up on her elbows to take a sip of water. 

“Ymir, you’ve gotta-”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ymir said impatiently, flapping her hand at Historia. “If you want to come round, I’ll be here. It’s not as if I’m going anywhere.”

“Okay, well, I might see you later then.” Historia said, stepping out into the hallway. She heard Ymir call out a hasty ‘good luck!’ as she shut the door behind her, and smiled.

To prevent herself from thinking too much on the drive home she put on the Red Hot Chili Peppers as loud as she could stand. She didn’t really want to dwell too much on the reasons her father might want to speak to her so urgently, face to face. Another, smaller part of her was trying to get its hopes up as well, which she refused to do. This wasn’t going to be some sort of tearful reunion where her father would take her into his arms and lament the lost time he has to make up for, how he never watched her grow up and turn into a strong, young woman- 

Historia made a disgusted face. “Yeah, right.” She muttered to herself as she clicked her indicator on to park in front of the house. Her father’s ostentatious car was parked in her usual place, so she had to park further up the road, muttering threats under her breath as she did so.

After she parked and walked the short distance down the street to the house, she stood outside for a moment, hand resting on the doorknob. “He probably just forgot your birthday and thinks it’s today.” She muttered to herself, knowing that she was talking bullshit. Like her father would turn up to wish her a happy birthday, he hadn’t even dropped round for Christmas this year.

The first person she saw when she walked into the house was her father’s assistant, Nick, looking as solid and dependable as ever. He gave her a brisk nod as she shut the door behind her. “You’re finally here.” He said in his clipped voice. 

“Yeah, hey.” She said, toeing off her shoes by the door. “Where’s Hanji?” 

“In the kitchen.” He said, before turning to lead her into the room. Historia followed his broad back into the kitchen. She noticed Nick was holding a cup of tea in his hands and wondered if he had been waiting for her to arrive. This whole situation was getting stranger and stranger.

They were all seated around the kitchen table like some bizarre parody of a family. Her father and Hanji sat opposite each other. Nick took a seat as her father stood to greet her. 

Hans Reiss was a thin, pale man with a quiet, reserved manner and a noticeable limp. He had the same blue eyes that Historia had inherited, and a full head of thick black hair that was greying at the temples. Despite his limp (which had happened when he was fifteen and involved an aggressive dog and no small amount of provocation on his part) his back was always ramrod straight, his posture incredibly correct. He was wearing his white collar, as was Nick.

A feeling of dread still hung over her, and intensified when she saw them all assembled at the table. Why did her father’s assistant need to be here? Historia got the impression that something important was about to happen.

“Hello, Historia.” He said formally in his deep, commanding voice. Historia rolled her eyes and took a seat next to Hanji, who looked as nervous as she felt.

“Hey Dad, nice of you to drop by.” She said, and winced when Hanji stepped on her foot under the table. “What do you want?” She asked as she father sat down again, his face impassive.

Her father cleared his throat and splayed his long, thin hands out on the table in front of him. Historia observed that he still wore his wedding ring. She knew that his wife had split with him after finding out about Historia. “I’ve come to offer you a proposition, Historia.” He began, and Historia noticed Nick gave him a surreptitious look out of the corner of his eye. She was suddenly overwhelmingly glad she hadn’t gotten very drunk last night. The thought of having to do this with a hangover was excruciating. 

“What is it?” She said suspiciously.

“I want you to come work with me when you’re finished with school.” He said without pause, his dark eyes piercing and steady on her own. 

“Are you kidding me?” Historia choked out after a long period of tense silence. Her father shook his head.

“If you accept you’d travel with Nick and I, helping to spread the word of the three goddesses. You’re unfamiliar with the nature of what we do, so it may take some time, but I believe that you can achieve.”

His voice was calm and smooth, no hint of emotion in there, but Historia’s brain kept snagging on the words _‘I believe you can achieve’_. A complicated mix of emotions rose inside her as she tried to process this new option in the methodical way she usually weighed decisions in. She tried separating the pros (working alongside her father, learning from him about something he was passionate about, _becoming the sort of person he may be proud of_ ) and the cons (dropping all her career plans, not going to university, less time with Ymir, having to work with her father and have him not acknowledge her and of course, glaringly obvious - she detested his religion) but her mind just jumbled it all up into one big flashing _MAKE YOUR FATHER PROUD_.

“Do I have to decide straight away?” She asked in a small voice, avoiding her father’s gaze. Surely they didn’t expect her to make a decision this big straight away?

“I need to make the travel arrangements today. I need to know right away what your decision is.”

Historia frowned. “Travel arrangements?”

Her father turned his gaze to Hanji, who was sitting stock still in her chair. “Hanji, you didn’t tell Historia that you’ll be soon leaving the country?”

“What?” This whole thing was going completely over her head. Historia felt like she’d missed an integral part of the conversation. Had she zoned out? “Hanji, what?”

Hanji at least had the grace to look guilty. “I didn’t want to tell her before she decided!” She exclaimed, before turning to Historia. “Don’t let this affect your decision, Historia.”

“Don’t let what affect my decision?” Historia asked desperately. “What’s going on?” She was so hopelessly confused. She looked to her father for an explanation. 

“To put it simply, Historia, I am broadening my horizons to America. I want to bring my religion to them. To see improvement, we all must make sacrifices.” His voice was still so steady and even, but Historia was barely listening.

“W-what?” She stuttered out, feeling her heart thud painfully in her chest. She looked wildly at Hanji. “You’re going too?” The apologetic look Hanji gave her answered her question. “I can’t leave!” She thought sickeningly of Ymir muttering _I love you_ into her hair. _Ymir_. Leaving behind Ymir was not an option, but…

Her father was staring unwaveringly at her. “We need your decision, Historia.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos + comments always appreciated thanks for reading!!
> 
> ....as always point out any mistakes i made....


	8. Chapter 8

Historia avoided Ymir for the next week.

She didn’t visit her flat, didn’t take phone calls when Hanji came knocking on her door, left school early so as not to bump into her by the gate. She avoided the beach completely, as well as anywhere within a mile radius of Ymir’s apartment complex. Maybe she was taking it a bit over the top, but she needed time to formulate what she was going to say to Ymir.

Avoiding her on the weekdays was easy. Historia was in school until three, sometimes four if she stayed behind to use the school’s music room, and afterwards she could go home and work on her homework or listen to music. It was the weekends which she knew were going to be the hardest part. 

She sat through her last lesson on Friday, English with the teacher Ymir wanted to fuck, dreading the next couple of days. She had work that night, as well as the morning shift on Saturday and the evening shift again on Sunday. It would be harder to avoid Ymir in her workplace because Ymir habitually came over for a coffee on her lunch break from Pizza Hut across the road. Historia was weighing up the pros and cons of reconstructive surgery to disguise herself when she was interrupted by a soft nudge on her arm. She flinched, but it was just the girl who sat next to her, Mina.

“Sorry, what?” She whispered, trying not to interrupt the teacher’s droning voice. She really couldn’t work out what Ymir saw in him. 

“There’s someone outside the door trying to get your attention.” She whispered back, nodding her head covertly towards the door. Historia actually felt her stomach turn over in anticipation as she looked towards the door with wide eyes, but it settled down when she saw that it wasn’t Ymir.

“What the fuck.” She muttered to herself as she met Annie’s eyes and gave her an exaggerated shrug. _What?_

Annie jerked her head to the side, signalling for Historia to meet her outside the classroom. Historia flicked her gaze to her teacher, who was writing something about iambic pentameters on the board, then back to Annie, giving her a slow shake of her head. _No._ She drew her shoulders up. _Why?_

Annie shook her head at her in disbelief, her eyes almost comically wide. _Come on_ , she mouthed exaggeratedly. When Historia shook her head again, Annie threw her hands up in the air before knocking quickly on the door and sticking her head around it. The teacher stopped in surprise.

“Yes?” He asked, lowering his hand from the board. Annie gave him a hard look.

“Can I borrow Historia Reiss for a moment? It’s about Eco Committee.” 

Historia frowned. Mr Dawk would see through that it a minute. Surprisingly though, he nodded. “Quickly, girls.” He said gruffly, before turning back to the board. Historia pushed her chair back and left the room quickly, feeling everyone’s stares on her back.

“What?” She hissed, closing the door behind her and stepping out into the corridor. Annie nodded her head towards the girls bathrooms at the top of the corridor and began walking. Historia huffed an irritated sigh and followed.

A couple of girls from the lower years were in there when they entered, but Annie gave them a sharp look and they scattered. Historia leant against the sinks and watched as Annie checked her bun in the mirror. “What do you want?” She asked again. “I was learning about pentrameters.” She added coldly.

Annie swiped a finger under her eye, mouth open in a round, pink O. “It’s pent _a_ meters, not pen _tra_ meters.” She said icily, then looked away from her reflection and scowled. “I worked the evening shift on Wednesday and your friend came in asking if I’d seen you. She looked worried.” 

Historia winced and put her hand over her eyes to block out Annie’s disapproving expression. “What did you say to her?”

“I covered for you.” Annie said offhandedly, like it was no big deal. Historia dropped her hand and looked at her in surprise. “What? I don’t even know her. For all I know she’d been fucking you around and you’d been ignoring her for a good reason.”

“Thanks, Annie.” Historia said slowly, touched. “Only…I _was_ in the wrong. I mean, she doesn’t know why I haven’t been talking to her.” She grimaced. “I’m terrible. I’m just avoiding something inevitable.”

“What is it?” Annie asked curiously, hoisting herself up onto the counter and settling back against the mirrors. Historia looked down at her feet and crossed her arms. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted Annie to be the first person to know, but she needed to get it off her chest. Maybe it would be a good practice run for telling Ymir anyway.

“I’ve gotta tell Ymir that I’m leaving, but I can’t work up the courage.” She said finally. She heard Annie, who had been knocking the heels of her feet against the face of the counter, pause. The silence stretched, and when Historia looked over at Annie, she had a look of surprise on her face.

“You’re leaving? How come?”

“My father asked me to come work with him, only it’s in America. I’m leaving at the start of March.” Historia said, thinking back to the expression on her father’s face when she had accepted and feeling a complicated mix of happiness and sadness. “I’m too scared to tell Ymir, I’m afraid she might get angry.” ‘Might’ wasn’t really the right word. There was absolutely no doubt that Ymir would be angry. Historia needed at least a month to mentally psych herself up for the fallout.

Annie was looking at her calculatingly. “You and Ymir kinda go beyond friends, right?” She quietly said after a brief pause. 

Historia made an uncomfortable noise. “I thought that was obvious.” It was the first time she’d admitted anything like that to someone who she knew from school, and she felt a little weird after she said it, like her head was going to float off. She gave Annie a nervous look to try and gauge her emotion, but the other girl was staring at the floor, brow wrinkled.

“I’m in a relationship with two guys.” She said eventually, and gave Historia a stunned look. Historia could relate. She could practically see Annie backtracking. “I mean, I just. I’m not judging you. I didn’t want you to get the impression I was judging you for being gay.” She sighed and tilted her head to the side. “I mean I’m not some ignorant straight girl.”

“I didn’t think you were judging me.” Historia said gently, oddly pleased that Annie had revealed that aspect of her life with her. They’d been working together for a long time and Historia realised she didn’t really know a lot about Annie, actually. “Thanks for telling me?” She said awkwardly, and laughed when Annie did too.

“Whatever.” Annie said awkwardly, scowling down at the ground. 

“I thought you were with that guy Bert?” Historia asked carefully. Annie rolled her eyes and nodded.

“It’s kinda…I was with Bert first, but then Bert told me he liked Reiner? And I mean, there’s nothing wrong with Reiner…and he liked me so. We decided to give it a go.” She shrugged one shoulder, seeming slightly uncomfortable. “It’s nice.”

Historia was silent for a minute, digesting this new information. It sounded nice, actually.

“I should get back to class.” She said eventually, and Annie nodded. “Thanks for telling me about Ymir though.”

“It’s okay.” Annie said dismissively. “Y’know, I do actually like you, Historia. Even though you can’t make a double soy venti to safe your life.” She added, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I’m not even gonna argue with that.” Historia laughed. “Are you working tonight?”

“No, Saturday and Sunday.” Annie said, pushing her fringe out of her eyes. 

“I’ll see you then, I guess.” Historia said, hand on the door. She heard Annie make a noise of assent as she exited to get back to class, and smiled to herself. Maybe she hadn’t managed to go three years in this school and not make a friend. Her mood quickly soured however, as she realised that she really needed to stop stringing Ymir along and tell her, soon.

\---------

Ymir didn’t come into the shop that evening, and Historia remembered she had a day off on Fridays. Usually Ymir would go shopping for junk food whilst Historia was working, and afterwards she’d go back to Ymir’s flat and watch the most recent K-drama she was obsessed with and eat and fool around. 

Thinking about spending time with Ymir was bumming Historia out, so instead she concentrated on trying to master making a double soy venti between orders. By the end of the night, she still wasn’t much better at it, and Levi had drunk so many testers he said never wanted to look at another coffee so long as he lived. 

Historia gave Levi a lift back to the house, ate a takeaway pizza with him and Hanji and watched them bicker for a bit, before retreating to her room for the rest of the night.

Her room was rather depressing really, especially now, but it had never been somewhere where she had liked to stay. That was the reason she drove around in her car so often - she had bought it, and it felt like hers. Her room, on the other hand, didn’t. It had been a box room when she’d come to live with Hanji, so the walls were painted a bland off-white, and the floor was hard wood. It was also so _bare_. She had a small single bed, a desk, a bedside table, and a dresser. That was it. There were no posters on the walls, and the only things which she’d bought from her old house were her CD player and a jumble of books which were stacked on her bedside table. 

Maybe that was why she liked Ymir’s flat so much, it was just so _Ymir_. It felt familiar and cosy and Historia was really making herself upset now. She wondered what Ymir was doing, and smiled as she pictured her sprawled out on her unmade bed, head tipped over the side, watching TV and dropping crumbs on herself. Her smile dropped off her face as she caught sight of the packed suitcases on the floor, and remembered how little time she had left with Ymir.

She sat down heavily on her bed, surveying the room. It looked more depressing now because of the two suitcases leaning open against the opposite wall. They were both half-full of everything she owned in the world. The fact that she could fit it into two suitcases said a lot, she thought. Most of the room was taken up by her clothes.

What was she even doing? She was leaving for another country in a month, and she was wasting time sitting around wallowing in self pity when she could be lying in bed with her girlfriend. She glanced at her watch and frowned. It was nine o’clock, which wasn’t late, especially since tomorrow was Saturday, but Ymir could have gone out rather than stay in and wallow like Historia was doing. The chances were pretty low, especially with the reaction Ymir had had towards her old friends at the party, but Historia used it as an excuse not to go see her that moment. She felt shitty using such a weak excuse, but she wasn’t really in the mood for a big confrontation.

She shuffled into the living room after a few minutes staring blankly at her bare walls, and sat down in the armchair near the sofa. Levi and Hanji were sitting together watching some crime drama, Hanji with her feet in Levi’s lap. Historia wondered what Levi thought of Hanji’s imminent departure. They’d met in university and had kept in touch since. They had a strange relationship - if you didn’t know them, you’d assume that Levi disliked Hanji, and that Hanji loved getting a rise out of him. The latter was true, at least. Hanji loved to tease Levi until he snapped. However, Historia was sure that Levi didn’t hate Hanji. He had the kind of grudging affection for her that was usually reserved for a new puppy prone to peeing in shoes.

“Who’re you gonna hire in my place, Levi?” She asked abruptly, drawing her legs up to stare at Hanji and Levi over her knees. 

“Annie and I are debating whether we should keep a permanent shrine to your memory by the coffee machine, or to develop some sort of robot modelled on your likeness.” He said seriously, not taking his eyes off the TV. Historia threw him a dirty look.

“Shut up.”

“I don’t know, Historia. The first spotty school kid to hand in an application.“ He shrugged. “What do you want me to say?”

Historia shrugged one shoulder and turned her attention to the TV. “You could hire Ymir.” She muttered. “She hates working at Pizza Hut.”

She heard Levi make an amused noise. “We’re not running a fucking charity case for people disillusioned with their fast food futures.” 

“Have you spoken to her yet about moving?” Hanji asked, kicking Levi to shut him up. Historia dropped her forehead on her knees and mumbled a short ‘no’. “It’s been a week.” Hanji said in surprise. “Wait, have you even seen her?”

Historia shook her head. “I’ve been avoiding her all week.” She said pathetically. Levi actually started laughing, but when Historia looked up she saw Hanji thump him to shut him up. “What! I just don’t fancy confrontation with her!”

Hanji made a face. “Maybe you’re underestimating how reasonable she can be. I’m sure she doesn’t fly off the handle about every little thing.” She said sensibly. “From what I’ve seen of her she seems perfectly calm and laid back.”

“What are you talking about?” Levi asked, frowning at the two of them. Historia realised he’d never met Ymir before, apart from brief meetings at the coffee shop. She was about to tell him to ignore her, but Hanji cut in.

“Historia’s under the impression that her girlfriend has some sort of anger problem.”

“She does!” Historia cried. “She said so herself.” She said quietly. She was gonna miss Ymir’s short fuse. “You’re not being very helpful, Hanji.”

Hanji shrugged and settled back against Levi, who pulled a long suffering expression. “Just suck it up and go speak to her.” He said with a tone of finality. 

“You shouldn’t leave her hanging when it comes to something important like this.” Hanji agreed, as if she was sensible or something. Historia rolled her eyes.

Historia unfolded herself from the armchair and went back to her room, tossing a betrayed look at Hanji as she went. She knew what Hanji was saying made sense, but that didn’t mean she had to admit it. She’d gone to Hanji and Levi for some advice in the hopes that they would give her an easy way out, but they’d been completely useless. Historia knew that she just had to ‘suck it up’ and explain the whole thing to Ymir, but it was a lot easier said than done.

She grumbled to herself as she undressed to get into bed and jumped when the door opened a crack, but it was just the cat. She scooped it up and brought it into bed with her, muttering to it lowly and scratching it’s ears.

“In bed by half nine on a Friday night.” She murmured, feeling the cat start to purr beneath her hand. She held the warm ball of fur against her chest and reclined against her pillows, idly petting him. “Absolutely incredible.” She muttered, shaking her head. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow after work.” She told the cat. Titan flicked his ear lazily. “It can’t be too bad. I’m just building it up in my head, right?”

\----------

Historia was working the Saturday morning shift the next day, which was her least favourite shift in the world, and wasn’t improved by the fact that she hadn’t gotten to sleep until the early hours of the morning. She wasn’t sure whether to blame it on nerves or the fact that she kept trying to work out what she was going to say to Ymir in the morning.

Annie was working the same shift as her, and seemed the same as she ever was. Their conversation in the toilets at school hadn’t changed anything between them, and Historia was glad that it hadn’t.

Historia was in the backroom arguing through the door with Annie when Ymir turned up for her customary mid-afternoon coffee. 

She was looking for the green tea powder, and couldn’t find it anywhere despite Annie’s insistences that it was _right_ behind the coffee beans stacked _on top_ of the boxes of cups. She was yelling through the door about Annie’s piss poor stock sorting abilities when Annie stuck her head into the backroom with a wide eyed look of surprise on her face.

“Your girlfriend’s crossing the street!” She hissed. “You wanna serve her?”

Historia froze, a cylinder of coffee cups in her hand. “No!” She blurted quickly. “Haven’t spoken to her all week!”

“I thought you were going to yesterday!” Annie said despairingly.

“I wasn’t ready!” Historia said, dropping the cups and clasping her hands together. “Annie, please. Cover for me. I was literally going to go see her after work to explain everything. I don’t want to do it right now.”

Annie rolled her eyes. “You’re stupid.”

“I know.”

“Fine, I’ll cover for you.” She said, retreating back to the counter. “You owe me one though!” She said, just as the bell above the door rang, signalling a customer. Historia pressed an ear against the closed door to listen to their conversation. She could tell it was Ymir by the way she dragged her feet as she walked. That, and she was cracking her knuckles nervously.

“Hey, I‘ll get a black coffee.” She said, and Historia hadn’t realised how much she’d missed her dumb voice. She heard Annie working the coffee machine, and over the hissing of that she heard Ymir ask, “Is Historia working today? She normally does morning shift on a Saturday, right?” Her voice was hesitant and Historia wanted to bury her face in Ymir’s hair.

“Ah, no, she called in sick today.” Annie said smoothly. Historia was impressed at how good of a liar she was. “She said she had a migraine. She was being a bit of a baby about it, but what can you do, right? Here you go.”

There was a slight pause after that, where Historia cursed Annie and Ymir probably dumped a million sugars into her coffee.

“Thanks.” Ymir said quietly. Historia heard her boots shuffle off, and then the bell over the door ring to tell her Ymir had exited the shop. She let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding, and groaned. She felt so guilty, holy shit. Ymir had sounded so defeated and disappointed. She didn’t even get prickly over Annie being rude about Historia. Historia pushed up her glasses to rub her eyes before exiting the stock room. 

Annie was leaning against the till, pushing a few grains of sugar around on the counter. She looked up as Historia closed the stock room door behind her and grimaced.

“Ouch.” She said. Historia made a face.

“That bad?”

“You know, for someone who’s meant to be smart, you act pretty dumb sometimes.” Annie raised her eyebrows and dropped her gaze back to the counter.

“I said I’d talk to her tonight.” Historia said tightly. 

“Good.” 

\-----------

Historia parked her car in a side street near Ymir’s block of flats, but stayed inside the car for a few minutes, steeling herself. She considered texting Ymir to see if she was in, but at the last minute remembered that Ymir had lost her most recent phone. She sighed.

“You’re stressing over nothing.” She hissed to herself, before unbuckling her seatbelt and leaving the car. It was freezing outside, and the street was icy under her feet. There had been reports of snow, but Historia guessed that they probably wouldn’t see any since they were so close to the sea. She pulled her scarf up over her chin and stuffed her hands in her pockets, wondering if it snowed heavily in America.

It seemed like the heating was out in the flats, because when Historia pushed through the double doors she was hit with a draft of cold air. She grimaced, imagining how cold Ymir’s flat was going to be. She took the stairs up to Ymir’s floor to try and warm herself up, and regretted it almost instantly. Ymir lived on the eighth floor and by the time Historia had climbed all those stairs her calves were burning. She took a breather at the top before continuing down the long corridor to stop outside Ymir’s door. She knocked quickly, before she could psych herself out. There was a clatter, then Ymir called out.

“Who is it?” Ymir’s voice sounded suspicious.

“It’s Historia.” She said nervously. A pregnant pause followed, then Historia heard Ymir moving inside the flat, and the door swung open abruptly. “Hi.” She said quietly. Ymir didn’t reply. “You look cold.”

Ymir looked like she was wearing all her clothes. She had a huge patterned jumper on over her jeans, which were tucked into a big pair of thick socks. Judging by the lumpiness of the jumper, she had clothes on under that too. Historia bit back the urge to laugh. At least Ymir could only be so intimidating dressed up like this.

“The furnace broke and the super hasn’t got round to fixing it yet.” Ymir said shortly. “Where’ve you been?” She crossed her arms over her chest and Historia saw that the fingers of her left hand were circled with plasters.

“I’m sorry, I-” She broke off. She didn’t really want to have this conversation in the drafty hallway of Ymir’s rundown apartment block. Especially not when Ymir’s flat looked so inviting and warm and for some reason smelt like cooking food. She peeked over Ymir’s shoulder to try and see inside. “Can I come in?”

“As long as you don’t run away this time.” Ymir muttered, but stood aside to Historia could walk in. The first thing she noticed that the room was only marginally warmer than the hallway, and that there was a large pot of something cooking on the stove. The counter was a mess of vegetable peelings, as well as half the contents of the medical box. 

“Have you been cooking?” She said in surprise, jumping when Ymir closed the front door with a little more force than necessary. The hangers on the back clattered, and Historia suddenly remembered the first time she’d visited Ymir’s flat.

“Yeah, I’m trying to warm the place up.” Ymir said before flopping down onto the bed and pulling a duvet around her shoulders. Historia hovered nervously, wondering if Ymir was too angry with her to let Historia sit down next to her. “Historia, just sit down.” Ymir said irritably. “You’re stressing me out with all your fidgeting.”

 _Coming from you_ , Historia thought, but didn’t voice it. Ymir had to be one of the twitchiest people she knew. She pulled her shoes off by the door, wobbling and stumbling, before settling down with her back against the wall, socked feet just touching Ymir’s thigh.

“So what were you avoiding me for this time?” Ymir asked, gazing challengingly at Historia, though the way she was cracking her knuckles one by one that showed her nerves.

“I don’t really know how to say it.” Historia admitted, ducking her face into her scarf. “I’m just scared how you’ll react.”

Ymir gave her a look of disbelief. “I’m not gonna fuckin’ punch you, Historia. Just spit it out.” She looked vaguely worried, and her fingers were twitching in her lap as if she was missing a cigarette to keep her hands busy. 

Historia groaned and pushed her glasses up her face to grind the heels of her palms into her eyes. They were sore and red-rimmed from crying on and off all week, and she knew she probably had dark bags under her eyes from lack of sleep. Telling Ymir about her decision had been plaguing her all this time, and she needed to get it off her chest, even if it was just for her own sake.

“My dad asked me to come work with him.” She started heavily, eyes trained on the bed sheets. 

“Yeah, okay, so what. You’re financially stable after school that’s nothing to cry about.” Ymir’s tone was disparaging, but Historia detected a hint of nervousness.

“It’s not a _job_ job. He wants me to go spread the good word.” Historia said embarrassedly. She wasn’t even sure why she was going along with it, considering she didn’t even believe in it.

“Okay, whatever.” Ymir said, brushing it off. 

“It’s in America.” Historia said finally. “He asked me if I wanted to come work with him in America.” There was a long pause in which Historia felt Ymir draw away from her slightly. She looked up and saw that Ymir had pulled her long legs close to her chest. Historia mirrored her. They regarded each other over their knees. Ymir was the first to break the silence. 

“What did you say to him?” She asked dully.

“I said yes.” Historia said in a small voice, feeling the familiar hollow sadness she’d been battling with all week rush back as she saw Ymir’s face fall in disappointment. “I’m so sorry.” She hadn’t been expecting Ymir to be so quiet about it. So _resigned_. She wanted Ymir to shout at her, to call her a selfish bitch and tell her to get the fuck out of her life.

Instead, Ymir just hunched further in on herself, burying her face in the collar of her big jumper. Historia heard a muffled “why?” and shrugged her shoulders slightly.

“It’s complicated.” She said lamely.

Ymir raised her head and fixed Historia with a tired stare. Historia was just glad to see she wasn’t crying. She didn’t know what she’d do if Ymir started crying. “Fuck complicated.” She muttered, but there was no real heat behind her words. “You can at least try and explain this to me.”

“I can’t explain it. I just…my father has ignored me since my mother died, and I’ve been trying to get him to pay attention to me ever since. It‘s just hard because he didn‘t want me from the start. I mean, essentially, I broke up his marriage.” She paused to try and collect her thoughts. “This is something I could do with him which would show him that I’m interested in being his daughter, and interested in his work. I just really want to make him proud.” She said, feeling pathetic. Trying to justify a decision she had made without putting any real thought into was difficult. “Ymir, to be honest, I’m not even sure. When I said yes I wasn’t really thinking. It was just kind of like, this is the best opportunity I’ve got to try and reconnect with my dad right now, I can’t throw it away. I’ve gotta take the chance and if it doesn’t work out I can come back but if it does then-” She broke off, voice tight. “I just really want a family again.”

Ymir was quiet for a couple of minutes after Historia finished, her eyes roving over Historia’s face as if she was committing it to memory. Eventually, she spoke, “I understand.”

“You do?” Historia asked in surprise. Ymir reached out to grab her ankle and tugged on it lightly. Historia shuffled closer, and found herself being pressed to Ymir’s chest in a tight hug.

“Of course I do, you idiot.” Ymir said into her hair. She smelt of smoke and cheap laundry detergent and Historia burrowed closer to her, trying to feel her through the many layers of clothes. “I’d do anything to reconnect with my family.” She said wistfully, clamping a cold hand on the back of Historia’s neck when she tried to lift her head. “Wait. Just. Let me hug this out. I’m gonna miss you.”

Historia pressed her face into the side of Ymir’s neck and kissed it lightly. “I’m gonna miss you.” She mumbled, feeling tears prick her eyes. She blinked them back. “I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Ymir said shortly. “Family is what’s important. I’ll be around here forever, living off minimum wage and bumming cigarettes off people. Your dad won’t be.”

The thought was comforting, but Historia didn’t really believe that Ymir would wait for her. Ymir wasn’t the sort of person who lingered on stuff. She moved on from things, got on with life. No doubt it would be Historia who’d come running home after one too many rejections from her father. Ymir didn’t need her like Historia needed Ymir.

“What if he still doesn’t acknowledge me? Why would moving to another country make this better?” She asked, struck suddenly with a strong sense that she was making the wrong decision. Ymir was being so understanding and mature, more mature than Historia could have thought possible. She hadn’t realised how much she’d underestimated Ymir. On the other hand, her father had barely cracked a smile when she’d agreed to work for him and had left with Nick soon afterwards. “Ymir, I think I might be making the wrong decision. I thought you were gonna flip out at me and never speak to me again when I told you, but you’re not. I can‘t believe I was so scared to tell you.”

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” Ymir said in surprise. When Historia made a small noise of affirmation, she snorted. “I guess I do let my temper get the best of me sometimes.”

“But do you think I’m making the wrong decision?”

“You’re not making the wrong decision.” Ymir said softly. “When are you leaving?”

“Beginning of March.” Historia mumbled. “We’ve only got a month left together.”

Ymir stroked a steady hand through Historia’s hair. She was so calm about this. “Let’s not waste it then, huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments are always lovely! as always point out any mistakes i've no doubt made haha


	9. Chapter 9

Ymir wasn’t kidding about not wasting any of their dwindling time together. They did everything together. Historia was barely ever home, something which she didn’t really mind because Hanji had begun to make plans for their departure, one of which was selling the house. Historia tried her hardest to avoid being home when people were coming to look because it was just so weird to see strangers poking around her house.

So instead of sitting in her room ignoring prospective buyers and staring at her half packed suitcases, Historia spent time at Ymir’s flat. They didn’t really change what they did, it was very much like it was before Historia had told Ymir she was moving. They watched TV, listened to music, talked about work and school and teased each other. Ymir had recently been sacked from Pizza Hut, so she was desperately searching for a job before the end of the month, as well as trying to finish an art project she was working on.

“I think I want to get into an art course in the college.” She said seriously. She was kneeling on the floor, surrounded by sketches and drawings. “But I need to put together a decent portfolio, and that’s gonna take time I don’t have.” She learnt forward to pull a painting towards her with one charcoal smudged hand. Her hair swung into her face from where it had been tucked behind her ear, and she swept it away, grumbling. 

“Your hair’s getting long.” Historia observed, stretched out on the sofa, a cup of tea warming her hands. The furnace had been fixed a couple of days after it had broken, but Ymir was too poor at the moment to have the heating running constantly. It meant a lot of cold toes in bed at night, and several cups of hot drinks to keep them going through the day.

“Yeah.” Ymir said absently, sitting back on her heels. “Hey, I applied for a job in your coffee shop, but the manager said that they’re not hiring until after you leave.”

Historia hummed. “I’m working there ‘till the bitter end. Literally. I’m working the morning shift on my last full day here.” She paused to switch over the song playing. “I think I’m gonna give it a miss though.”

Ymir was quiet after that and the only sounds in the flat were that of shifting papers and Brand New leaking from the stereo. It felt nice to just inhabit the same space as Ymir. Just to sit in silence as they each did their own thing. Historia was glad she’d found someone who appreciated silence as much as her.

Historia had noticed a marked difference in Ymir ever since she’d told her of her decision to move just under two weeks ago. Ymir was usually the sort of person who didn’t strive for anything. She didn’t really care enough about herself to try and get something better than what she had. Before, if she had lost her job, she would have bummed around trying to find an easy job, or borrowed money off of friends. Now she was actively not only looking for a job, but one that would fit in with college. The fact that she was looking at college was miraculous enough. Historia wondered what the reason was for the sudden change in Ymir’s motivation. She guessed that Ymir didn’t want to go back to how she was living before Historia came along. It struck her suddenly that Ymir was probably going to be lonelier than her when she left. The thought filled her with a strange, aching sort of sadness.

“Ymir, are you gonna try hanging out with some of those people we saw at the party when I leave?” Historia rolled over onto her side to look at Ymir’s back, cradling her tea awkwardly. She saw Ymir’s skinny shoulders tense.

“I don’t think so.” She said in a tone much lighter than her body language. “We’ve all kinda outgrown each other.”

“Are you gonna…see anyone else?” Historia asked carefully. She and Ymir had discussed the whole long distance relationship thing, and had both decided it wouldn’t work. Ymir didn’t own a phone at the moment, let alone a computer. Besides, she was such a physical person - always leaning into Historia’s space and resting a hand on her just to feel her there - that it would just be bad for both of them. It hurt Historia a lot to know that their relationship had a finite amount of time, but she supposed sometimes sacrifices had to be made. If it was for real and they were meant to be together for a long time, then maybe they’d get together again, but Historia didn’t see it happening. Not in the real world. She didn’t want to ruin what they’d had the past few months with trying to force a relationship if she ever returned. That just wasn’t how either of them worked.

“I don’t think so.” Ymir said quietly. “At least, not for a little while.” She had stopped looking through her drawings, and was just sitting on the hard floor with her back to Historia. Historia remembered the drunken ‘ _I love you_ ’ and closed her eyes. Neither of them had mentioned it, and neither had said it again. Ymir was probably scared of rejection, whilst Historia was scared of commitment. It wasn’t her fault, anyone with her kind of familial problems would have a hard time committing to another person. She wondered if she’d be able to pluck up enough courage by the time she had to leave. “How about you?”

“Same.” Historia said, opening her eyes again. Ymir had gone back to sorting through her artwork and Historia thought the set of her shoulders looked a lot less hard.

“I was thinking about making a ‘zine.” Ymir said, swivelling round on her knees to face Historia. She had changed her nose stud to a hoop, it looked cute. Historia smiled at her.

“Your nose ring’s cute.” 

“I was thinking that if I did, you could ask your manager if you could put it on the counter? For free, I just want it to get out there.” Ymir said, ignoring Historia’s comment but shuffling forwards on her knees to press her cold nose into Historia’s neck. Historia squeaked embarrassingly, and Ymir kissed her in apology. “What do you think?”

“What’s it on?” 

“The fetishisation of women.” 

Historia stared. “I don’t know if that would go down well. You have seen our regular clientele right?” She asked, thinking of the gangs of young teenage girls.

“Exactly!” Ymir enthused. “They need to know about this stuff!”

Historia shrugged one shoulder. “Sure, okay. As long as there’s not, y’know. Nudity.”

Ymir leaned back to cross her heart over her shirt. “No nudity.” She grinned then, sudden and crooked. “This is so cool. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do.” She kissed Historia then, her fingers smearing charcoal over Historia’s collarbones as she slid the tips of them under the collar of her t-shirt. “Thanks.” She said breathlessly, breaking away. “I’m gonna start them today.”

“Okay, I got some homework to do so-”

Ymir cut her off by slapping a hand over her mouth. “No, c’mon.” She said plaintively. “Let’s go out. I can’t believe you’re still doing homework when you’re not even completing the year.”

“Go where?” Historia asked suspiciously. “It’s freezing.” If it was freezing in the flat, Historia didn’t want to think about how cold it was outside.

Ymir settled herself into a more comfortable position on the floor and leaned back against the coffee table. She was wearing her lumpy sweater as well as a pair of relatively gross shorts covered in acrylic paint smudges. She didn’t really feel the cold as much as Historia did because she was always pretty warm. Except for her icy hands and feet.

“Besides, you’re not really dressed to go outside.” Historia added, leaning forward to tug on the leg of Ymir’s shorts. 

She slapped her hands away. “I can get dressed. C’mon, let’s go get a coffee or something.”

Historia wrinkled her nose and shuffled up until she was sitting against the armrest of the couch. “You know, working in a coffee shop really takes the joy out of drinking coffee.” She said, sipping on her now cool fruit tea. Ymir’s face fell slightly, and she sighed, relenting. “Fine, yeah, whatever. We could walk to that nice one near here.”

“Yes! I’m craving their hot chocolate.” Ymir said as she stood and carefully picked her way through the art strewn across the floor. Knowing Ymir, it was going to stay like that until either Historia made her tidy it away, or Historia herself put it away. Her eyes followed Ymir as she moved to the chest of drawers under the window and began to pull clothes out of it. “How cold is it outside?” Ymir continued talking as she pulled her jumper over her head and Historia rolled her eyes when she saw Ymir wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

“…You haven’t been outside today?” Historia said, struggling to keep her voice even. Ymir gave her a catlike smirk to show that she’d been unsuccessful and pulled a thin t-shirt over her bare chest.

“Not yet.”

“It’s cold.” Historia said, as Ymir stepped into a pair of jeans. “Too cold for no bra.” 

“Too bad.” Ymir said in a low voice, tilting her head to the side as she smirked at Historia, who shot her a dirty look. “Like you’re complaining.”

Historia didn’t dignify that with a response, but silently mourned when Ymir pulled a sweatshirt on over her t-shirt, along with a scarf and her coat. She was ready and waiting by the door before Historia had time to pull her shoes on as well as her own hat and scarf. She already had her coat on because she didn’t run at a ridiculous temperature like Ymir.

The cold hit Historia like a blow as she left the flats, and she even caught Ymir tugging her scarf up over her face. It was unseasonably cold for February, even in the UK. 

“I hate the cold.” Historia grumbled as she linked her fingers with Ymir’s. 

“Yeah, my ass is ice.” Ymir said conversationally, swinging their arms between them. She had lit up as soon as they had left the flats and her breath was now mingling with the smoke puffing from her mouth. She looked unfairly beautiful in the grey afternoon light, wiry and graceless, red cheeked from the cold. 

“I’ll probably miss the cold.” 

Ymir looked at her in disbelief. “It’s cold as balls over there in the winter.” Historia nodded sagely and tucked her free hand into her coat pocket.

“Okay, noted.”

The walk to the coffee shop was quiet. There weren’t a lot of people around because of the chill in the air and the ice on the roads, so Ymir took advantage of it and did dumb stuff like taking off and sliding down the pavement, or tugging on Historia’s hand to try and unbalance her on the slippery surface. By the time they arrived at the coffee shop they were breathless from laughing and damp from falling over. 

“I’m gonna be one big bruise tomorrow.” Historia commented as they waited for their orders to be ready, a mocha for Historia and a large hot chocolate for Ymir.

“Yeah, same.” Ymir replied as she pinched Historia’s side to make her yelp and twist away. She sniggered cruelly and Historia jabbed her in the side as revenge. “Hey! Don’t play dirty with me, Reiss.” She exclaimed at the exact moment their drinks arrived. The bored looking teenager behind the counter gave them a flat look as Ymir took a handful of sugars and joined Historia at a table at the back of the shop.

It was a cute little café, smaller and emptier than the one Historia worked at, but that was to be expected for an independent shop. There were only a couple of other people inside, and when she took her seat Ymir produced her notebook and a biro from her pockets and began to draw them carefully. Historia watched her, blowing on her drink to cool it down.

“What do you think his name is?” Ymir said quietly, not looking up from her drawing. Historia glanced across to the person she was sketching, a fat man with a Groucho Marx moustache and little round spectacles which he peering at a dog eared paperback through. Historia took a sip of her mocha, ruminating on the question. 

“Vince.”

Ymir cast her an amused look. “ _Le Big Mac_.” She muttered to herself, hand snaking out to pull her hot chocolate closer to her and take a sip. Historia rolled her eyes. Ymir had watched Pulp Fiction for the first time a few days ago, and she’d been quoting it ever since. 

“I can’t believe it took you twenty years to watch Pulp Fiction.” Historia said, watching as Ymir methodically added sugar to her drink. “That’s gross.”

“Oh, like you‘re special for watching it first.” Ymir retorted, emptying the last sugar packet in before going back to her drawing.

They talked about inconsequential things as they drank their drinks. Films Historia had seen recently, what kind of people might be in Ymir’s art course, Ymir’s job prospects. Historia lightly teased her about the healing slices on her fingers from an ill-fated attempt at cooking. Ymir held her hand under the table whilst Historia stared out of the window to the bleak view outside. It was all very nice but only served as a reminder of what Historia would be leaving behind. She pushed the thought from her mind however. She didn’t want to waste the time she had left by wallowing over their eventual break up.

Historia finished her drink before Ymir, who let her have a go at drawing in her notebook as she finished off her own drink. It was a pretty poor attempt, Historia had to admit. She’d tried to draw the little old lady sitting across from them with all her pale hair piled on top of her head, but it looked ridiculous. Ymir laughed for a while at her before patting her hand sympathetically.

“It okay, you’re better at other stuff.”

“Like what.” Historia said sullenly, pushing the book and pen back across the table towards Ymir, who tucked them back inside her coat.

“I don’t know. Loads. You’re smart, you’re good at cooking. You’re not rude.” She paused to consider this. “Jesus, you’re like the perfect human. You’re a mother-in-law’s wet dream.”

“Yeah, right.” Historia scoffed, “I’m far from the perfect human.”

Ymir gave her a hurt look. “Are you calling me a liar, Historia Reiss?”

“I believe I am, Ymir.” Historia said as she stood and began to pull her scarf and coat on. “You ready?”

The sky had already begun to darken when they left the café to walk home, and Historia kept close to Ymir’s side as they navigated the narrow streets that would take them back to the main road, then back to Ymir’s apartment block. The air smelled like the city, the metallic smell of exhaust fumes fixing potently with the lingering smell of winter. Historia thought it was poetically appropriate that she was leaving here on the turn of the season.

“Smells like it’s gonna rain.” Ymir said abruptly as she shouldered the door of her flat open and grimaced at the mess inside. “Ah, shit. I should’ve tidied this up before we left.”

“How can you tell?” Historia said, taking off her shoes by the door along with her coat and scarf and burrowing into the thick duvets on Ymir’s bed.

“Smells fresh.” Ymir said as she gathered together her bits and pieces of art work and stacked them in a haphazard pile on the coffee table. “I dunno…can’t explain it.”

“No I get it.” Historia said, pulling the blankets over her head and watching as Ymir stripped down to her t-shirt and underwear. “I hope it does.”

“Me too.” Ymir said, falling gracelessly into bed next to Historia. It was unspoken between them now that she was staying the night: she slept over most nights. She actually spent so much time in Ymir’s flat that it felt more natural returning there than to her own home. “Shall I make dinner tonight, or you?” She asked, tugging the blankets around so she was nestled up warm and close to Historia’s side. She felt so alive and soft that Historia needed to take a minute to collect herself as Ymir slid a teasing finger down her back.

“I’ll cook. You’re terrible. I’ll end up eating a thumb or something.” Ymir’s touch turned into a slap and Historia laughed, rolling away from her. “What’re you gonna do without me?” She wondered.

“I managed fine on my own before you came along.” Ymir said haughtily, curling up close to Historia’s side again.

“Yeah, but your body is used to actual food now. I don’t know if you’ll survive eating microwave food after that.”

Ymir was about to retort, Historia could see it in the set of her shoulders, before she suddenly went limp against her side. “Hey, rain.” She murmured, cocking her ear towards the window. Historia mirrored her. Ymir was right, she could hear the faint smattering of rain on the windowpanes. They listened in silence as it grew heavier and Ymir sighed contentedly. “This is nice.”

Historia ended up cooking, whilst Ymir sat on the window sill with the window cracked, her face upturned to the cool breeze blowing in. The white noise of rain filled the apartment and Historia let it block out all the thoughts clamouring to be heard in her head.

They ate facing each other on the sill, feet overlapping and icy cold, the sound of rain filling their ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!! seriously thank u everyone who's read this so far and left kudos/comments for real it's what makes me keep writing so thank you so much [big thumbs up]
> 
> also i generally post this under the tag fic: dogwood days on tumblr if you're looking for a way to keep up with updates!


	10. Chapter 10

Time passed by quickly, especially with juggling school and work, as well as seeing Ymir. The week went by in a blur, and suddenly March 1st was looming, terrifying and final. Ymir had fallen into one of her depressive moods, punctuated by the bad temper that Historia had been expecting when she’d initially told Ymir about moving away.

She either spent a lot of time on the floor of the bathroom, watching Ymir smoke in the bath, or having stupid arguments with her that either ended in Historia leaving the flat or Ymir kissing her, hard.

Unfortunately, the first day of their last week together was spent doing the latter.

It had all started because Historia had sleepily stepped on one of Ymir’s charcoal drawings on a late night trip to the bathroom, vision fuzzy and the flat pitch black. She’d woken up to Ymir dropping her portfolio on her head.

“What the fuck?” She exclaimed, pushing the huge folder aside and glaring up at Ymir who was kneeling above her with a dark expression on her face. She cast her hand around until she found her glasses. “What the fuck was that, Ymir?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Historia.” Ymir said sarcastically, holding up a piece of sketchbook paper for Historia to look at. “What the fuck is _this_ , huh?”

The drawing was of a figure from one of Ymir’s life studies classes she’d started attending. It had a big foot shaped smudge right in the centre of it. It was then that Historia did a very stupid thing. She laughed.

“Don’t laugh!” Ymir cried in astonishment as Historia cracked up. “I _paid_ for this life studies class! I can’t afford heating and you stepped on my drawing!”

“Don’t leave your stuff around then!” Historia said, breathless from laughing. She started laughing again when she saw that Ymir was wearing nothing besides a pair of knickers and a huge t-shirt with David Bowie’s face stretched across it. She had toothpaste on a spot on her nose. She was seriously trying to pick a fight looking like that.

“You’re such an asshole! Do you think I like being poor?” Ymir yelled and Historia stopped laughing in utter confusion.

“What? Hey! Don’t take it out on me, Ymir, it’s not my fault you got fired from your job!” Yeah, it wasn’t her fault that Ymir had been caught taking an unscheduled smoke break one too many times, or for getting caught stealing food, or the thousand other reasons why her usually laid back manager finally snapped.

“Yeah, well, I suppose you wouldn’t know what it’s like would you?” Ymir shot back, getting close and prodding a finger into the center of Historia’s chest.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Historia exclaimed defensively, slapping Ymir’s hand away. 

“Oh, I don’t know, _I guess God provides_.” Ymir said acidly, flinging her drawing down and standing up to walk away from where Historia was half-sitting up in bed. She stared after her, stunned.

“Are you kidding me?” Goddamn, Ymir was bad at arguments that couldn’t be solved with her hands. “Oh my fucking god, you’re an idiot.” Besides, it was a low blow to bring her father into this.

She was feeling a mild spark of anger now, not over Ymir’s pathetic attempts to insult her, but because she had to be the one who Ymir took her anger out on. Ymir hadn’t got in a fight since November last year, and Historia could practically _feel_ how tightly strung she was. But it wasn’t Historia’s fucking fault, and it definitely wasn’t her fault that Ymir had left her artwork right in the middle of the room. It was just common sense. 

“Fuck you!” Ymir said, whirling round. She jabbed a finger in Historia’s direction from her position by the window. Historia wondered if the man from the flat opposite was getting a load of this. Hell, the people next door, below and above were probably getting a load of this. “You need to get some fuckin’ perspective, Reiss.”

Historia scoffed at her, and feeling a bit stupid, also rose to her feet. At least she was wearing pyjama bottoms. “Yeah, right. _I_ need to get some fuckin’ perspective. Oh man, you’ve got such a hard life, wow. You had to live with like, a thousand different family members because your mum died and your dad wanted nothing to do with you, how sad. Oh wait.” Historia made an over-exaggerated thinking face. “That was me, wasn’t it? You just moved out because you didn’t want to be around Mummy’s new boyfriend.”

Ymir gaped at her. “Not everything’s about you, Historia!”

“Well, newsflash, Ymir, not everything’s about you either!” Historia gritted out, throwing her hands up in the air. “Jesus!” Ymir actually looked surprised at how into this fight Historia was getting. Normally she just sat around nodding which only managed to work Ymir up even more. She never really retaliated, but then again, she wasn’t normally woken up by a book falling on her head. Besides, she was so sick and tired of Ymir taking it all out on her. Yes, it was hard for Ymir, but she wasn’t the only person in the world. She didn’t have to bring up the whole God thing.

“Just fuckin’ apologise!” Ymir said at last, her jaw set defiantly. And there it was. What irritated Historia most about Ymir: the fact that she could never back down from a fight.

“Are you on your goddamn period or something?” Historia snapped, grabbing her keys from the kitchen counter and starting towards the door.

“That’s fucking sexist!” Ymir shouted after her as Historia slammed the door loudly.

Her anger fuelled her as far as the car park, but when she felt the biting cold and realised she was still dressed in her pyjamas, she deflated slightly. Out of pride, she couldn’t go back to Ymir’s flat, so she decided to sit in her car for a bit until she calmed down enough not to feel like a total idiot crawling back to her girlfriend.

Her breath escaped her mouth in a cloud as she sat in the car, waiting for it to warm up a bit. She jigged her leg and stuck her hands under her armpits. What a dumb idea. What a dumb argument. She never ever let herself get wound up by Ymir’s stupid fights. What had gone wrong then? She supposed she could blame it on her rude awakening, or even the stress she was under with moving to a whole different country. But had she meant what she said? Ymir didn’t really have it great, she was poor and could barely afford food on top of her rent. Her parents didn’t help her out, and she didn’t have a lot of friends. Historia felt like a complete asshole.

She continued feeling like a complete asshole for a bit as the car gradually warmed up and she mostly stopped shivering. She was deep in thought when someone tapped on the window, making her jump.

It was Ymir, looking cold and shamefaced. She mouthed something through the window, ‘ _can I come in?_ ’ Historia shrugged and unlocked the door for her. Ymir slid inside, bringing the cold in with her. Silence descended on them as they sat there. Ymir produced her notebook and began doodling. Historia avoided Ymir’s gaze studiously. She tried the window, but she could see Ymir’s reflection in the glass. She tried the dashboard, but could see Ymir’s hand curled around her chewed biro out of the corner of her eye. She huffed in annoyance and stared at her hands instead.

Ymir broke the silence as she always did.

“What was all that about?”

“I don’t know,” She mumbled in what was probably the most unsatisfactory reply in history. “You started it.” 

“You stepped on my fucking-” She cut herself off and took a deep breath through her nose. “Historia.” She tried again in a calmer voice. “C’mon.”

“I’m just tired of you always taking stuff out on me.” She said sulkily, hunching down in the drivers seat. “You’re not the only one who’s losing somebody, you know.” 

Ymir made a soft noise and reached across to touch the back of Historia’s neck with her freezing cold fingers. To her credit, Historia didn’t even flinch away. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m having a bad week.”

“Yeah, I know.” Historia said, feeling a little guilty. “Sorry for saying stuff about your mum.”

“Sorry for saying stuff about you know, God.” Ymir said with a hint of amusement in her voice. Historia groaned.

“It’s the god _esses_.” She corrected. “Three of them.”

“Well, _excuse_ me!” Ymir exclaimed, her fingers tightening on Historia’s neck imperceptibly. Historia hummed and pressed back into her grip. “Come here.” Ymir said, guiding Historia closer to kiss her hard.

“Are we kissing and making up?” Historia mumbled against Ymir’s lips. Ymir nipped on her lower lip hard enough for it to hurt, then ducked to kiss her jaw.

“Yeah I guess so.” 

Historia let herself be kissed by Ymir for a little while until they were both warm and pink cheeked. She laughed, breaking the kiss and causing Ymir to whine in annoyance. “I’m still in my pyjamas.” She pointed out. 

“Shall we go back up?” Ymir asked, slipping her cold hands under Historia’s t-shirt to pinch her stomach. 

“Stop that.” Historia said half-heartedly.

“C’mon I’ll cook you breakfast to say sorry.” Ymir said, tugging on the bottom of Historia’s shirt. Historia let herself be pulled closer for another lingering kiss. She definitely wasn’t feeling angry or resentful anymore. She sighed.

“Okay, okay. Fine. But you’ve gotta tidy away your art stuff from now on so you can’t start dumb arguments over it.”

Ymir flashed her a sardonic smile as she opened the car door. “I’m sure I’ll find something else to start a dumb argument over.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Historia muttered to herself, before following in Ymir’s lead and locking the car as she left.

Ymir did cook her breakfast, if handing her two pieces of rather burnt toast covered in jam was cooking. Historia ate it in her bed and purposely got crumbs between the sheets because she was still a little bit bitter about being woken up so rudely. 

“That was the biggest fight we’ve ever had.” Ymir commented, turning the piece of toast she was holding on a fork over the gas ring. She cursed as the corner caught slightly. “I hate burnt toast.” She murmured sadly.

“It was kinda pathetic.” Historia replied, wiping her sticky fingers on Ymir’s pillow case. Knowing her luck, she’d probably end up sleeping on it that night.

“It had potential.” Ymir said fairly, back still turned to Historia, who hummed in agreement.

Their relationship was based off of this, Historia reflected, as she watched Ymir butter her toast. This ability to spring back after an argument with no resentment or hard feelings over what the other had said. Maybe it was Ymir’s short temper that did it - she wasn’t the type to hold long, drawn out grudges. She preferred a quick burst of anger and yelling, then when that was over she was back to her normal self. Historia herself hated conflict and would avoid it at any possibility to do so. That’s why she ran away so often. That was why she ran away just then. They fit together well, was her point. Their temperaments suited each other. They weren’t similar in many ways, but it worked. They were just good for each other. Historia knew she had changed since meeting Ymir, and thought Ymir had as well, maybe even more than her.

Historia felt the familiar hollow sadness invade her chest, the sort of sadness which made her feel as if the walls were pressing in. Like she couldn’t breathe. _They_ had potential.

Historia didn’t believe in _soul mates_ , or anything as ridiculous as that, but she had to admit to herself that her and Ymir were better together than a whole host of people she knew. Finding someone who it was so easy to be around and to be with was hard for her, and in a weeks time she’d be leaving it all behind. She swallowed thickly and glanced up when Ymir dropped to her knees in front of her. A half eaten piece of toast was dangling from her fingers, and she had a slightly worried look on her face.

“You alright?” She asked, slumping beside Historia and eating the rest of her breakfast in three huge bites. Historia nodded slowly, snapping out of her thoughts.

“Sorry, just thinking.”

“You think too much.” Ymir said lightly, but held her hand loosely, thumb rubbing gently over the back of her palm. Her fingers were gritty with toast crumbs.

“I’m gonna miss this.” Historia said, frustrated. 

“What, having to deal with my god awful personality?” Ymir said jokingly, though there was an undercurrent of sadness in her voice. 

“Ymir, be serious.”

“Fuck, Historia, stop reminding me, okay?” Ymir burst out. “Jesus. Let’s just forget you’re leaving soon and just treat the time we’ve got left like normal, alright. You can go to school and overachieve and you can drive me around in your piece of junk car and I’ll fuck up in trying to find a job, and we can just pretend that we have an infinite amount of time left.”

There was no real heat in Ymir’s voice, just a sort of childish desperation that sounded out of place coming from her mouth. She was acting like a kid, just ignoring what she didn’t want to hear or think about. It was weird to realise this because, despite her flaws, Historia had always looked to Ymir as the older person, the leader. She was an adult, practically, no matter how many times she cried over Disney films. 

“Fine.” Historia said shortly, feeling odd at the role reversal between them. Ymir’s fingers twitched spasmodically in hers and after a couple of long beats she shifted to rest her face against Historia’s shoulder, her hair tickling her cheek.

“I’ve never broken up with anybody before.” Ymir said quietly. 

“We’re not breaking up.” Historia shifted to try and get a better look at Ymir, but she was avoiding her gaze. “Hey, we’re not breaking up.” She said again, softer.

“Yeah, but we’re not going to be together anymore. We agreed.” Ymir corrected, hunching her shoulders and burying her face in the juncture between Historia’s shoulder and her neck. Her breath was hot against her skin.

“We’re not breaking up though, we’re just kinda…not together anymore.” Historia murmured. “If you want to try the long distance thing we can but-”

“No, we’ve gone over this. You know it wouldn’t work, just-” She broke off and seemed to search around for the right words for a second. “Let me just have this, okay.”

“Okay.” Historia said, slightly confused. She listened to Ymir’s breathing for a bit, thinking. “You wanna come round for dinner on Friday? Hanji’s cooking like, a going away meal or whatever. Levi and couple of people she knows are gonna be there, and she asked me if you wanted to come as well.”

She felt Ymir nod. “Yeah, alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow don't fight girls
> 
> (as always point out any mistakes enjoy!!)


	11. Chapter 11

It was the night of their last day in the UK, and Historia was currently laying the table, simultaneously listening to Hanji talk about the roast chicken in the oven, whilst also keeping an ear cocked for a knock on the door. Ymir had declined a lift, saying she could catch the bus down. This gave Historia plenty of time to be alone with her thoughts, and in the end she’d gotten so sick and tired of imagining what the next few months would be like that she’d gone into the kitchen and volunteered herself for kitchen duty.

“This is slave labour.” She grumbled as she laid out the last set of knives and forks and dashed to take the lid off a bubbling pot of peas. “You could be prosecuted for this.”

Hanji was sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of wine in her hand and a half empty bottle by her side. “We’re fleeing the country tomorrow anyway, Historia.”

“Regardless, this is a crime.” Historia said, and began to work out her nerves on the mashed potatoes. “Ymir should be here soon.” She added.

“D’you think she’ll agree to look after Titan?”

Historia half turned to see Hanji scooping the cat into her lap. “Yeah, no doubt. She’s a cat person.”

“Are you still thinking of asking her if she wants your car?”

“Yeah.” Historia went back to mashing the potatoes. “She’s a terrible driver but it’s not like I can keep it.”

Hanji hummed in response and Historia heard the clink of the wine bottle against her glass. The kitchen was full of the sounds and smells of cooking. It was nice and domestic and Historia couldn’t remember the last time her and Hanji had had a proper cooked meal that wasn’t pasta or takeaway. The only drawback was that the heat was making her glasses steam up. As she was wiping them on her skirt, the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it.” Hanji said, and stood up to answer the door with her wine glass in one hand and the cat in the other. “It’s Ymir!” Historia heard her call a moment later.

Historia felt a little jolt in her ribcage and turned round to see Ymir in the doorway of the kitchen. She looked so nice, like she’d made a real effort for tonight. Her hair was clean and shiny but still pulled back in her omnipresent ponytail, and she was wearing a tidy looking shirt over what was probably her only pair of intact jeans. She was wearing _makeup_. Her wrists were bare and Historia could spot the scars from across the room. She looked incredible.

“Ymir…you look really-” Historia began in awe, before Ymir cut her off with a self deprecating smile.

“Yeah, yeah, okay. You don’t look so bad yourself.” She said, smirking and moving further into the kitchen. Historia could see she was wearing her shitty taped up boots still. Old habits die hard, apparently. “I thought you might appreciate it if I washed, y’know.” She leaned into Historia’s back, looking over the top of her head at the cooking food. “Looks great.” She pressed a kiss to Historia’s temple and stepped back as Hanji re-entered the kitchen with Levi in tow.

“Levi, this is Ymir, Historia’s girlfriend.” Hanji said as she took a seat at the table. Ymir mumbled a quick hello, suddenly quiet. Levi squinted at her for a minute.

“Didn’t you fill out an application for Historia’s old job?” He asked suspiciously, and Ymir’s eyes went wide.

“Yeah, like. That’s allowed, right?” She said awkwardly.

Levi shrugged lethargically. “It hurts your chances.”

Ymir looked confused for a second and Levi tutted. “That was a joke.” The expression on his face seemed to dare them to laugh.

“Oh, okay, cool. Thanks.” Ymir said uncomfortably, crowding close to Historia’s side. Historia decided to take pity on her and remove her from the kitchen for a little bit. 

“I’m gonna show Ymir my room.” She announced, handing the oven gloves to Hanji grandly. “No more child slavery.”

Hanji grumbled and snatched the gloves from her hands. “You’re a better cook than me anyway.”

Historia gave her a disparaging look and led Ymir out of the kitchen and upstairs to her room. Ymir was oddly quiet but the moment Historia closed her bedroom door behind her, she grabbed her by the back of her dress and pulled.

“Ymir!” Historia spluttered as she lost balance and ended up crashing against Ymir’s chest. She was laughing but held her up and turned her around to give her a kiss. 

“Sorry. You look nice.” Ymir said by way of an explanation and tugged on the front of Historia’s dress. “Low cut.”

Historia rolled her eyes and disengaged herself from Ymir’s’s arms, moving to sit in her bed. Ymir stood awkwardly by the door for a beat longer, before crossing the room to look out of Historia’s window. “Nice view.” She commented. Ymir frowned. It was just of the back of their neighbours house, but okay. It suddenly struck her that Ymir might be a bit lost for words. She had seemed out of her comfort zone in the kitchen after all.

“You act so different around people you don‘t know.” She mused quietly, smirking when she saw Ymir’s face turn pink.

“Like I’m gonna be rude to them!” She said defensively. Historia smiled. Ymir liked to think she was so tough.

“You’re so dumb.” Historia said fondly.

“Whatever, Historia, when I first met you I thought your head was gonna fall off with all the blushing you did.” Ymir snapped back, but it was playful, and Historia nudged her leg with her foot gently.

“You really do look nice.” She said, casting Ymir an apologetic smile for teasing her.

“I wiped out on my skateboard like an hour before I had to get ready to come here.” She grumbled, brushing off Historia’s compliment. She was wandering around Historia’s bare room, picking stuff up and putting back down again and messing up where everything was supposed to be. Historia gritted her teeth and left her to it. “Hey, who’s this?” She asked, holding a small picture frame in her hands and studying it closely.

“That’s my mum.” Historia said, craning her neck to see the photo. Ymir joined her on the bed, still holding the photo. The usual complicated mix of emotions rose up in her as she saw the photo.

“She’s gorgeous.” Ymir said seriously, and Historia appreciated that she didn’t use past tense. “You look like her.”

“I guess.” Historia said, staring at the familiar face in the picture frame. 

Ymir gave her a sharp look. “What do you mean by that?”

Historia shrugged uneasily. “I mean I’m not pretty like her.”

Ymir looked down at the photo in her lap. “You’re beautiful.” She muttered, avoiding Historia’s gaze. Historia felt her face go hot and she looked down at her own hands, which she was wringing nervously together.

“Thanks.” Historia said in a small voice. She was slightly taken aback. Ymir called her cute, or said she looked good, she’d even taken to calling Historia ‘hot’, although that usually never happened outside of a sweaty tangle of limbs and hands in her bed, but it happened. She’d never called her beautiful before, but then Historia had never called Ymir beautiful either. Which was kind of fucked up, actually.

“I’m serious, Historia. You’re as beautiful as her.” Ymir said, reaching across to place the picture frame gently on Historia’s bedside table. She laced her fingers with Historia’s and pulled her in close. “I know I don’t say it often, but I mean it.”

“You’re beautiful too.” Historia mumbled into Ymir’s collarbone. She could sense an air of tenseness around Ymir, her body was taut as a bowstring and her free hand clenched on Historia’s back. 

“Historia, I -” She broke off as Hanji’s voice came from the hallway.

“Food’s ready!”

“Okay!” Historia called back, then turned back to Ymir. “What were you gonna say?”

Ymir looked hesitant, an odd gleam of fear in her eyes. She was cracking her knuckles repetitively, until Historia laid her hand over hers and repeated her question.

“I love you!” She blurted out, eyes wide. Historia stared at her for moment, heart thudding in her chest, and jumped when Hanji called them again.

“Ymir -” Historia began, but Ymir was talking over her.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way I just wanted you to know before you left in case you thought I was just a dumb girl who was having a go at experimenting or whatever, because I’m not. I really like you.” Ymir said all this in a rush, then stood up quickly, smoothing her shirt down. “Okay, let’s go eat then.”

Dumbly, Historia followed Ymir out of her room and back into the kitchen. The food smelt amazing but she barely registered it as she took a seat at the table next to Ymir and numbly greeted Hanji’s work friends, Mike and Erwin, who had also turned up. The table wasn’t really big enough for six people to sit around comfortably, so Historia found herself close to Ymir, their thighs pressed together under the table. Her mind was a blur as she tried to focus on the conversation flitting around the table as well as having a personal freak out over what Ymir had just told her.

This time was different to the drunken I love you Ymir had breathed into her hair weeks ago. Maybe Ymir didn’t even remember that time. There had been an edge of electricity and desperation in the way Ymir had burst out with it that suggested that she’d been waiting to say it for a while. But should Historia say it back? It would be cruel to say it to Ymir without meaning it, but what did love even feel like? Did she feel love for Ymir? She knew she felt a deep affection for Hanji, and a complicated mix of anger and love for her mother and father, but Ymir? 

Ymir was the one person that Historia felt wholly herself around, but the thought of being in love with someone she couldn’t actually be with was a sudden, frightening thought. Yes, she probably did love her. She wanted to spend every minute with her, she loved Ymir’s flaws and her quirks as well as everything else which made her _Ymir_. But the fact that it wasn’t going to work scared her.

She ate her meal in a daze, trying to figure it all out. What had been holding her back from confessing her feelings to Ymir previously had been her fear of rejection, as well as the fear of committing to someone like that. But now, there was no real chance of commitment. Tonight and tomorrow morning were the last times she’d see Ymir. She cast a sideways look at Ymir, who was smiling at something Erwin had said to her. The pressure of her thigh against Historia’s was steady and grounding. Historia had come to a decision. 

After the meal was finished, Historia began to gather the plates up, Ymir jumping to help her, but Hanji stopped them.

“Go on, it’s fine, we can tidy up.” She said with a knowing smile which made Historia flush and duck her head.

The moment they returned to Historia’s room, Ymir pulled off her boots and shuffled up Historia’s bed to sit against the headboard. Historia joined her and rested her head into the crook of her shoulder. The lamplight filled the room with a cosy yellow light. It felt intimate and close, and Ymir smelt like cigarettes and cheap detergent, her skin soft under Historia’s cheek.

“I think I love you too.” Historia murmured finally, sneaking a quick glance at Ymir, who was looking stunned. “Oh fuck, I do. I love you.” She felt Ymir tense up next to her for a split second, before relaxing and melting against Historia‘s side.

“Oh.” Ymir sounded dazed, and shifted to cup Historia’s jaw in her hands. “For real?” Her eyes burned into Historia’s, black in the dim lighting. When Historia nodded, she let out a disbelieving laugh. “Fuck! Great timing, asshole!” 

Whilst Historia was trying to decide whether she was being serious or not, Ymir began to kiss her all over her face. Light, soft kisses on her forehead, her cheeks, her jaw. She closed her eyes and tried to squirm away but Ymir just kissed her eyelids, laughing the whole time.

“This is just gonna make tomorrow even worse.” Historia mumbled as Ymir kissed her way down her throat to nip at her collarbone.

“Cheer up, you’re in love, for Christ sake.” Ymir said playfully, making Historia roll her eyes. “Are you gonna get fresh with me or what, huh.”

“I guess so.” Historia said grudgingly, letting Ymir push herself between her legs. “Who even says that anymore.”

“Seriously, shut up.” Ymir replied as she pushed Historia’s dress up to her waist. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Historia said quietly. Ymir kissed her softly and gave her a sharp smile.

“I’m gonna go down on you now.” Ymir informed her seriously, before ducking down to push the crotch of Historia’s underwear out of the way. She smirked, and Historia’s clit gave a sharp throb of pleasure at the expression. “So pretty.” Ymir murmured, pressing a deliberate kiss to Historia’s clit and laughing when Historia’s hips twitched. She balled the hem of her dress up in her fists so she could see Ymir.

“Okay, okay.” Ymir murmured, and ducked her head to swipe her tongue agonisingly slowly over her. She had one hand splayed out on Historia’s stomach, the other resting on Historia’s inner thigh, and Historia was trying not to buck her hips up into Ymir’s mouth. 

“ _Ymir_.” She murmured, bringing her hand to Ymir’s face and cupping her jaw. She could feel her jaw moving as Ymir worked her tongue over her, which turned her own more than she liked to admit. She tipped her head back into the pillows, grinding her hips up into Ymir’s mouth, desperate for more than the long, steady licks Ymir was giving her. “ _Please_.” She said, because Ymir liked to hear her ask for it.

Ymir made a little noise in the back of her throat, and her hand on Historia’s thigh tightened as she sucked lightly on Historia’s clit before licking over it, fast. Historia made a breathless noise into the pillow as Ymir pressed her face between her legs, tongue unrelenting. Historia began chanting Ymir’s name under her breath as she felt the pleasure building. 

When she came, it was slow, like falling apart. It wasn’t like when Ymir got her off with her tongue and her fingers at the same time, fingertips pressed against that spot inside her which sung with sharp pleasure. It was different, unhurried and leisurely. She threw her arm across her face as she felt her orgasm building up and then she was coming. It rolled across her in lazy, tingling waves, making her pant and arch her back off the bed, thrusting up against Ymir’s unrelenting tongue. “ _Ymir_.” She gasped, strangled and broken, and she could feel Ymir’s answering moan all the way to the tips of her toes.

She relaxed back against the bed, letting her cramped fingers unclench from the sheets. “Woah.” She huffed out a breathless laugh, and squirmed when Ymir pressed her thumb against Historia’s clit, watching her face intently for her reaction. 

“Can I make you come again?” Ymir mused, moving her thumb ever so slightly on Historia’s swollen clit. She hissed and jerked away from Ymir’s calluses.

“I’m too sensitive!” Historia exclaimed, slapping Ymir’s hands away and grinning down at her. “Maybe later. Come here.” She dropped the tone of her voice and lowered her eyes to look at Ymir through her lashes. Ymir narrowed her eyes and smirked, tilting her head against Historia’s inner thigh.

“Can you even move?” What a smug asshole. Historia smiled and raised her eyebrows.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” She scoffed, but couldn’t deny the shakiness in her arms which she was propping herself up on. Her legs felt leaden. She just wanted to sink into the mattress and feel Ymir’s skin on hers. But first she wanted Ymir to come for her.

Ymir took that as challenge, of course she did, of course she fucking did. “I’m gonna make you come again.” Her voice was steely with resolve. 

“Can I at least get out of my dress?” Historia scrabbled with the back zip of her dress, but it was useless. “You too!” 

Ymir slipped out of her own clothes quickly, unbuttoning her shirt and letting it drop to the floor. She stood to clumsily pull her jeans off, and Historia felt herself flush hot when Ymir settled back on the bed in front of her in nothing but a bra and pants. She supposed she should be used to seeing Ymir in her underwear, but she wasn’t. Maybe it was because Ymir so rarely bothered with a bra. Her breasts were pushed up soft and small in a lacy red bra that Historia had never seen before. She wanted to slip it off and press her mouth to the freckles there, flick a tongue over Ymir’s dark nipples.

“Come here.” She said again, with conviction. Ymir gave her a catlike grin and moved forward on her knees towards Historia. Historia reached for her zip again but Ymir beat her to it, pressing close to Historia to unzip her dress and slide the bodice off her shoulders. Ymir’s breasts were _right there_ , all round and perky looking and it took all of Historia’s will not to just press her face into them. Ymir didn’t seem to notice her distraction, too intent on running her hands over Historia’s skin, over her back and her shoulders, tracking nonsense patterns over her ribs. Historia felt goosebumps come up in Ymir’s wake, and shuddered, tilting her head to catch Ymir’s lips in a hungry kiss. Ymir wasted no time in pulling Historia’s dress over her head after that.

Historia loved to look at Ymir. She loved to watch Ymir flush down to chest and turn her head away from Historia’s gaze, the set of her shoulders self conscious. Smoothing out the tense line of her muscles with soft kisses, starting from her neck and leading down. When Historia caught Ymir’s nipple between her teeth, Ymir drew in a sharp gasp and slid her hand into Historia’s hair, anchoring her there. Historia sucked on her nipple until it was hard under her lips, and shook off Ymir’s hand to move to the other one. She pushed the sheer cup of Ymir’s bra down to repeat the process before moving down to trace her tongue over Ymir’s stomach muscles. She pressed Ymir into the bed until she was flat on her back, Historia’s tongue still flicking over her skin.

“Just do it already.” Ymir muttered, hands twitching spasmodically in the sheets, ever impatient. Historia nipped Ymir’s hipbone.

“Don’t hurry me.” She admonished, sucking a mark into the skin just above the band of Ymir’s pants. She touched it as she pulled away, wondering if a bruise would bloom there. She wondered how long it would stay after she left. She was distracted from her thoughts by Ymir practically smacking her in the face with her hipbone as she lifted her hips off the bed to slide her underwear off herself. Historia gave her a dirty look and unfolded herself from her position near Ymir’s hips to glare at her, hands on hips. 

“That was meant to be my job.” She said, internally rolling her eyes at the way Ymir’s gaze kept flicking between her legs. She pressed her thighs together. “You’re so unfair.”

Ymir just shrugged one shoulder lethargically, rolling her head back into the pillows and exposing her neck to Historia. Historia followed the long, lean line of her body, watching the way her stomach muscles flexed as she rolled her hips up, the soft shift of long, wiry muscles in her arms as she-

Historia felt her body go soft and warm, the sight of Ymir touching herself sending sparks of arousal through her. “Oh.” She said quietly, watching Ymir slide her fingers over her clit, letting her legs fall open and tilting her hips towards Historia. Show off. “Let me.” Historia muttered, crawling to kneel between Ymir’s open legs and batting her hand away. Ymir smiled smugly and folded her arms under her head, sighing a little as Historia brushed her fingers over her. 

Shaking her hair over her shoulder - and when had it come out of her braid anyway? - she pressed her fingers with more confidence against Ymir’s clit, rubbing in slow circles. Judging by the satisfied noise Ymir made, she was enjoying it. Smirking, Historia pulled her fingers away to suck on them quickly, making them wet enough with her saliva to slide easily inside Ymir, who was already pretty wet. Ymir moved her hips lazily on Historia’s fingers, who watched with wide eyes. 

Ymir hummed and looked at her from heavy lidded eyes, and Historia just had to lunge forward to kiss her. Her lips were chapped from the cold, and Historia thought she could taste herself on Ymir’s tongue. The thought made her shiver and return to fucking Ymir with her fingers, enjoying how Ymir gasped into her mouth when she picked up the pace of her strokes. Historia muffled Ymir’s moans with her lips, conscious of Hanji and the rest of them downstairs.

“Do you want me to go down on you?” She murmured against Ymir’s lips. Ymir mumbled a pleased affirmation and pushed on Historia’s shoulder eagerly. Historia rolled her eyes. “You’re so fucking needy.” She hissed, but Ymir only blinked up at her, pupils blown.

“I don’t care.” She enunciated slowly, before she tipped Historia a sharp smile and pushed again on her shoulder. “Please.” 

Historia didn’t take her time over teasing Ymir like she had before, because honestly, she loved going down on Ymir. Almost as much as Ymir enjoyed it, probably. Ymir was always so _receptive_ when Historia’s tongue was on her. She loved the sounds she made, the way she’d grip Historia’s hair almost tight enough to hurt. She loved the way Ymir tasted on her tongue.

“Shit.” Ymir hissed, hands curling in Historia’s hair as she pressed her lips over Ymir’s clit and _sucked_. She moaned, curling her tongue around Ymir’s hardening clit. Historia was being purposely slow, wanting to take her time, to taste Ymir, feel her underneath her lips.

When she pushed her fingers back in, Ymir tipped her head back into the pillows, a low noise in her throat. Her hips twitched and Historia moved her fingers in time with the strokes of her tongue over Ymir’s now-swollen clit.

It didn’t take long at that pace before Ymir was arching her back off the bed, body taut as a bowstring as Historia brought her closer and closer with her mouth. Looking up through her lashes, Historia caught Ymir’s gaze, heated and desperate. Very deliberately, still maintaining eye contact, Historia sucked Ymir’s clit into her mouth and grazed her teeth lightly, so lightly, over it. Ymir’s mouth dropped open in a silent O and she came, shuddering and gripping the sheets in one hand and Historia’s hair in the other. Historia hummed happily, easing her through her orgasm with her tongue on her clit until it became too much for her and Ymir pushed her head away weakly. Historia dropped a few kisses onto Ymir’s thighs, brushing her lips over the round scars there as Ymir’s muscles relaxed and she melted bonelessly into the bed.

“Come up here.” Ymir mumbled sleepily, and Historia wiggled up the bed until she was folded up to Ymir’s side, her arm thrown round Historia’s waist and face planted in her hair. Ymir always got sleepy after an orgasm.

“Love you.” Historia murmured, burrowing into Ymir’s neck as she reached for the blankets and negotiated them over their bodies.

“Love you too.” Ymir whispered back, sounding happy and wiped out. Historia kissed her bare collarbone, but ended up bumping her teeth against it because of how hard she was smiling. 

“Goodnight.” She said quietly into the silence of the room. Ymir didn’t reply, already asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have a love/hate relationship with this chapter but ayy yuri smut am i right


	12. Chapter 12

Historia was jerked awake by her alarm clock, set to go off at an eye watering seven a.m. She flung her hand out of the warm cocoon of her bed sheets to turn it off before Ymir woke up, and burrowed back into the warmth of the other girl’s body. With a sigh, Ymir shifted onto her back, her legs sprawled out obnoxiously under the sheets. Historia pulled the covers up to her chin and watched as the sun turned the room rosy.

Ymir was a messy sleeper, just like she was messy with everything else she did. Her eyelids twitched restlessly and Historia wondered what she was dreaming about, if anything at all. She wondered if it was a nice dream. She nudged her gently with her elbow, because Historia was a lot of things, including a selfish fuck.

“Ymir.” She murmured, close to the other girls’ ear, a few wayward strands of hair tickling her face. “Wake up.” She said a little louder, punctuating it by a nudge in the thigh with her foot. Ymir grumbled sleepily and threw an arm across her face to shield it from the daylight.

“Whaddauwan’.” She mumbled unintelligibly, removing her arm from her face and blinking blearily up at Historia.”Why’m I awake.” 

Historia gave her a quick kiss and watched her come around and wake up a little. She was feeling oddly melancholy, just a little bit. She was never going to see Ymir wake up like this again. She wasn’t gonna wake up to Ymir’s ridiculous bed head anymore and have to coax her out of bed with the prospect of a nice strong mug of coffee. Ymir was never gonna yawn into her face with her gross morning breath and laugh, ever. She pillowed her head on her arms and gave Ymir a morose look. “Wake up, please.”

“’m tryin’.” Ymir mumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and passing a hand through the birds nest on top of her head. “Ugh.” She squinted at Historia. “Are you crying?”

“No.” Historia mumbled, hiding her face in her arms. She felt Ymir’s hands flutter nervously over the skin of her back before resting hesitantly on the back of her neck. 

“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t cry.” Ymir’s voice was strained and awkward. God, she was so bad at consoling people. Historia felt a laugh bubble up in her throat.

“God, you’re awful.” She muttered, wiping her eyes and punching Ymir lightly on the arm. “I’m fine, idiot. I’m just gonna miss your dumb face.”

Ymir made a mock offended face. “I’m appalled. Our final hour is here and you’re calling me an idiot, you asshole.” She laid herself across Historia’s back, her weight warm and comforting. “Don’t cry again.” She pleaded.

“I’m still crying.” Historia sniffed and pressed her face into the pillow.

Ymir kissed the back of her neck. “You’re gonna make me start in a minute.” They were both silent for a couple of minutes, and Historia stopped crying and instead listened to Ymir’s breathing and entertained herself with fantasies of coming back five years down the line and finding Ymir again. It could happen. It wasn’t completely out of the question.

As if sensing her train of thought, Ymir piped up. “You know, I’ve said this before but…I’m always gonna be here, y’know. You can always come back to visit be when you’re making millions doing whatever the fuck you’re gonna be doing out there.”

“I’m not sure if you can make millions through missionary work.” Historia said doubtfully. “Please move.”

Ymir sat up and crossed her legs under her, dropping her hands into her lap and beginning to crack her knuckles. Historia rolled out of bed and cast around on the floor for some clothes. She picked up Ymir’s boot and gave it a critical look.

“You know, if I do come back a multi-millionaire, I’m gonna buy you some new boots.” She muttered, discarding the shoe and shrugging her dressing gown on. 

“No, they’re perfect. They’re broken in just right.” Ymir said defensively, wrapping the duvet around her shoulders and giving Historia a smirk. “Thanks for the thought though, I’d rather you buy me a car.”

“You can have my car.” Historia said. 

After a few long beats Ymir replied. “Thanks.” She sounded oddly touched and Historia felt herself blushing. 

“I know it’s a piece of crap, but it’s better than nothing-”

“No, really, thanks.” Ymir said, giving Historia a soft smile. “I don’t know how I’m gonna afford petrol, but seriously, thank you.”

“You can have my tapes too.” Historia mumbled, bending down to snag her dress from last night off the floor and hiding her face. “I can’t use them anywhere but my car, so.” She trailed off.

“This is weird.” Ymir said. “This is making it very real for me right now and I’m not into that.”

“Hanji says you can look after the cat as well.” Historia tucked the remaining clothes into her suitcase, and began to pack the things she’d left out till last. 

“What.”

Historia smiled at the lack of inflection in Ymir’s tone. She turned to see her looking stunned. “Unless your super said no to a cat?”

“I thought that guy, Levi, was going to look after it?” Ymir asked suspiciously.

“He’s got a dog who the cat doesn’t get along with, it turns out.” 

“Wait, I don’t think I can be responsible for another living thing.” Ymir said uneasily. “I can barely look after myself.”

Historia plucked the photo of her mother off of her bedside table and tucked it in between her clothes. “You’ll be fine.” She assured her. “I trust you.”

Ymir made an uncomfortable noise, and Historia straightened. “Let’s get dressed and discuss it over breakfast, okay?”

Ymir nodded grudgingly, and slid off the bed. They dressed in silence and Historia pulled Ymir into a hug before they left her room. She wanted to memorise how Ymir felt, lean and lanky, her skin soft and freckled under Historia’s fingers. They broke away after a bit, and Ymir pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. “God, this is not worth it.” She muttered, but Historia knew she was just saying it. She nudged her.

“Shut up.”

\--------

Historia and Ymir left in different cars, when the time came. Hanji waited with Levi, who was driving them to the airport in his car, as Historia said goodbye to Ymir.

“I think I’ve forgotten how to drive.” Ymir said sadly, running her hands over the steering wheel of what had formerly been Historia’s car. Historia was leaning through the window, and was suddenly reminded of the first time she’d met Ymir. She watched as Ymir shooed the cat away from the pedals and smiled. Her tapes were tucked in the door, and Titan the cat was now grooming himself on the passenger seat. Ymir looked like she was trying very hard not to cry. 

“Can I just -” She cut herself off with a sharp shake of her head and leant to press her lips against Historia’s. It was awkward to kiss through the window like this but Historia let Ymir cling to her and kiss her breathless.

“Hey, Ymir.” She said, stroking a thumb over Ymir‘s freckled cheekbone. “Thanks for trying to bum a light off me that day.”

Ymir choked out a watery laugh. “Anytime.”

Historia kissed her again, and again, until they were breathless and laughing. “I love you.” She said seriously, cupping Ymir’s face in her hands. Levi was beeping the horn, but she ignored him. “Don’t forget me.”

“How could I?” Ymir asked quietly, pinching Historia to make her frown. “Now go before I actually cry.”

Historia gave her another kiss before backing away from the car. “Look after yourself!“ She called. She felt like she couldn’t breathe properly, the sort of feeling where she’d usually sit in Ymir’s bathtub until it went away. She felt tears rise in her throat.

The last time she saw Ymir she was hunched over the steering wheel of Historia’s car with her head in her hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> super short update but this finishes off historia's pov!! this isn't the end of the fic, but next chapter will be from ymir's pov, a couple of years down the line.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a reminder that this will continue in ymir's pov from now!! also warnings for depression, disassociation and mentions of painkiller abuse
> 
> thanks for reading and sorry for the long wait between updates!

It had been two years since Historia had left, and Ymir had adapted. She still felt pangs of loneliness when she saw something which strongly reminded of her Historia, but it wasn’t so bad. The first few months had been the worst, by far.

Ymir thought back to what she had dubbed ‘the months of hell’ with a reminiscent smile. Jesus Christ, she had been fucked up. It was like, take any teen break up film, and amplify it by one hundred, and then add depression and bad coping mechanisms. That was what ‘the months of hell’ had been like. She’s also practically drowned herself in those barbeque flavoured crisps you can get for 15p. Depression food like that held a special place in her heart.

But it had been hard, especially since she’d been juggling a new job (she’d managed to secure Historia’s old place at the coffee shop after all) and the art course she’d been accepted on, as well as immobilising depression. It came in waves, and she might have a really good week, then drop like a stone the week after. It seemed completely random, there was no pattern to the days where she’d feel like absolute shit and the days she wouldn’t. But it had always been like that and she tried coping with it in various different ways, some of which were successful, and others which probably did more harm than good. 

She glanced at the bathroom cabinet as she stepped out of the shower and began towelling her hair dry. She’d thrown out all the various painkillers she’d been stockpiling a couple of months ago, but she felt the gnaw of their absence deep down in her gut. After Historia had left she found it hard to deal with this new kind of loneliness that she hadn’t experienced before, and she started taking painkillers to take the edge off. She’d pop a couple of Co-codamols before going to work, or to college, and she’d drift seamlessly through the day before coming home and drinking a little and falling asleep. Except it got to the point where she was stoned every day, and people were beginning to take notice. It took her hooking up with Jean to realise that maybe she was being self destructive in a really unhealthy way.

Ymir remembered the worried crinkle of his brow in the soft yellow light of his bedroom and closed her eyes. Like she said, months of hell. 

Towel tucked under her armpits, she stepped out of the steamed up bathroom into the flat. Titan looked up disinterestedly from his grooming as she gave him a scratch behind the ear, and she laughed.

“Love you too.” She muttered, and dropped her towel to pull a jumper on and shimmy into her underwear and jeans. 

What had been weirdest about the months of hell had been the strange cycles of resentment towards Historia she would go through. The first week after she’d gone, Ymir spent a lot of time feeling bitter about Historia dumping her in this shitty town in this shitty country to get a shitty job and live out the rest of her shitty life alone and confused. She was bitter because Historia had chosen her absent father over her, because Historia was going to see new places and new things and Ymir was going to stay in a tiny town in Britain for the rest of her life. Because Historia had come along and complicated her life and fucked up who Ymir had thought she was, and then she’d left.

Ymir had had a pretty good grip on who she was before Historia came along. Going through the kind of stuff she had gone through had given her a good sense of self. She knew she was self destructive, she knew she had a short temper, but she also knew she was quick to forgive and an easy person to be around. She knew herself, whether she liked what she knew or not. Then Historia gave her a lift in her shitty car with her delicate hands and woolly tights and fucking _blushing_ and Ymir realised that maybe she didn’t know herself as well as she thought she did.

It turned out Ymir wasn’t as straight as she thought she was when faced with someone like Historia. She was just so _quiet_ and unassuming, that when you actually looked at her and you noticed the shape of her body and the way her jeans looked over her thighs and how thick her hair was and her pretty pink lips -

Basically Ymir wanted to kiss her until they both forgot who they were. Which was unnerving. Especially since Historia looked at Ymir in a way which made her creepy feelings even creepier. Looking back on that made her chest ache though, so she put a stop to it. She had an unhealthy habit of dwelling almost entirely in the past, but God, how was it you could love someone so much it hurt deep in your chest?

Ymir wondered if Historia still missed her, or whether she was getting used to it like Ymir was. Two years was a long time to still be attached to someone - Historia had probably forgotten all about her in favour of some tanned American girl. 

Ymir thought of the girl who worked with her now, Annie, and felt her lip curl. To say they didn’t get on would be an understatement. They clashed almost constantly whenever they were working the same shift. So much so that Levi had moved around their shifts so they didn’t work together. It wasn’t even all Ymir’s fault, Annie was as much to blame as she was. Ymir huffed out an annoyed breath and checked the time.

Setting thoughts of her irritating co-worker and ex-girlfriend aside, Ymir started hunting down her sketchbook and art folder from where she’d dumped them after last week’s lesson. Her folder was easy because it was so huge, but it took her a good ten minutes before she unearthed her sketchbook from under the sofa where it must have dropped last night.

She was enjoying her art course more than she expected she would, which was impressive. She’d expected it to be a lot like the art classes she used to do in school which involved a lot of still life drawings of skulls and not a lot else. This college course was really interesting and although there was the usual life drawing classes and structured drawing lessons, she was free to pursue the type of art she wanted to do instead of something the teacher told them to do. It was only the first week back after the summer break so they were working on pretty boring stuff but she was enjoying it all the same. 

Art was something she loved to do, she loved to do things with her hands and drawing was the next best thing to playing piano for her. Something about it helped ground her and keep her in the present, something which she struggled with a lot. Periods of disassociation weren’t rare for her but now, instead of soaking in the bath and chain smoking like she used to, she grounded herself in healthier, more creative ways.

Before, during the months of hell, if Ymir started disassociating she would take some painkillers and drift off for a bit. She remembered a particularly strong episode where she began imagining cracking her ribs open to find a small clear pool where her heart would be, and instead of doping herself up like usual, she sat in the bath and drew until she felt a little less odd in her own body. 

A knock on her door came as she was stuffing her feet into her boots, surprising her enough that she unbalanced and crashed into the coffee table, sending cigarette butts and CDs everywhere. She swore generously before picking herself up to answer the door.

“Just come in next time.” She said brusquely to the girl in the doorway before crouching down to lace up her boots. The girl laughed.

“That’s okay, I think I’d rather make you fall over again.” She peeked past Ymir into the flat. “That’s why you should empty your ashtrays I guess.” She flicked some ash from Ymir’s arm as she stood up. Ymir grinned and grabbed her books.

“Yeah, whatever. Let’s go.”

She locked the door behind her, slipping the key into the pocket of her coat. The girl was looking at her closely, squinting. Ymir rolled her eyes.

“Jeez, I’m not stoned. Let’s go.”

The other girl shrugged and followed her as they made their way to the lift. “Just making sure.”

Her name was Sasha, and she had been the first person Ymir had made friends with in college. Through Sasha she had met a few other people, who were friendly and kind and overlooked Ymir’s scars on her wrists and the bruises from fighting. They were the ones who had held a mini intervention for her back when she was coming out of the months of hell. Finding like-minded friends had really served as a kind of turning point for Ymir, and she was eternally grateful for it.

Sasha lived in the same block of flats as Ymir, a floor above her, in fact. Perhaps that’s what caused her to gravitate towards Ymir - there was only so many times you could see someone struggling to balance a coffee cup, keys, two sketchbooks and a huge A2 folder whilst running late before you could take pity on them. Ymir vaguely knew her through Connie - they’d been dating for a long time, but Ymir had never met her properly until she started college. They’d gotten into a nice routine of going to class together, and Ymir had gotten a lot better at waking up on time when she knew the consequences of sleeping in late. Sasha was a good aim with a well thrown book.

“You’re quiet today.” Sasha commented as Ymir glared at herself in the mirrored walls of the lift.

“Thinking.” Ymir replied, running a hand through her hair. She’d cut it short a few months ago into what she had thought would be a cute little pixie cut. In theory, it was still a cute pixie cut, but on her it was dreadful. Combined with her long nose and sharp jaw, she looked like a dude. Good god did she look butch. Combined with her preternaturally constant eye bags, she looked rough as hell. Oh, what a bad diet, insomnia and a slight codeine addiction can do for your looks.

“Watch out.” Sasha said, leaning against the glass. Ymir gave her a dirty look and turned away from her reflection. 

She had been thinking a lot recently, and not just because it was coming up to autumn and that always made her think of Historia. She finally got the impression that she was moving on from that part of her life and the resulting months of hell. Goddamn, maybe she’d even be able to go on a date with someone soon. Before, even the possibly of that made her feel uncomfortably unfaithful to like, Historia’s memory or whatever. She was an idiot, yeah.

Sasha was talking about her ideas for her final piece, absently scratching a nail over a set of initials carved into the mirrored wall. Ymir watched her thoughtfully. Something which she hadn’t really dwelled on since Historia had waltzed out of her life was the whole sexuality nonsense. When she realised that yeah, she totally wanted in Historia’s lacy little pants, she’d kinda shoved the whole sexuality crisis to the back of her mind and promised to work it out later. However, she’d never got round to it, and probably never would. Before Historia she’d definitely looked at girls like that, yeah, but had slept with plenty of guys to know exactly what she liked. Maybe that was the problem, maybe she should have tried going out with some girls, maybe it wouldn’t have taken so long for her to realise that she wasn’t as straight as she thought she was.

Ymir liked wide shoulders and big hands. Flat chests and hard muscles. She liked _guys_. Historia was the antithesis of Ymir’s ‘type’. She was short and little and soft. Ymir liked guys who looked like they could throw her over their shoulders. Ymir couldn’t explain it. There was just something so eye-catching about Historia. It wasn’t just that she was attractive, Ymir could see that clearly, anyone could. It was just so intoxicating when Ymir became used to the language of her body. Knowing someone like that had made Ymir go all silly with love.

Ymir watched Sasha talk and wondered if she was attracted to her. She was pretty in that sleepy, doe eyed kind of way which Ymir usually associated with stoners. Her thick brown hair was tied in a loose ponytail, curling past her shoulder blades, and she was a little shorter than Ymir. She was the sort of person who always wore a lot of layers, jumpers and scarves and cardigans over long skirts and boots. It suited her, and Ymir knew that under all those layers she had a pretty figure. Soft and curvy. Ymir supposed she could be attracted to her, if she tried. She could imagine kissing her plump lips, burying her hands under all those layers, but not a lot else. She wasn’t attracted to her in the same way she was with Historia, like a live wire was running under her skin. Historia thought she was a handsy person by nature, but in reality Ymir just couldn’t keep her hands off of her. Sexuality was just weird like that, she supposed. She decided not to dwell on it, she had enough going on without having her delayed Big Gay Freakout on top of it.

“Ymir?”

Ymir started, snapping out of her thoughts. “What?”

Sasha was standing on the threshold of the lift, holding the doors. Ymir shook her head to clear it and followed her out into the car park. “Sorry, I was thinking again.”

“Dangerous.” Sasha said amusedly, going round to the passenger side of Ymir’s car and waiting patiently for her to unlock it. “What were you thinking about?” She continued inside, reaching into the side of the door to take out a tape and put it in the player. Ymir watched her and remembered being in her position, looking through Historia’s pretentious sad girl music. Brand New began to play and she flinched.

“Can you change it?” She asked, turning the key to start the car up. “I hate this band.”

Sasha gave her a puzzled glance but changed it out for the Pixies without questioning her. Ymir guessed she knew better than to question Ymir sometimes. “So what were you thinking about?” Sasha repeated as Ymir pulled out of the car park.

“Ah, y’know, just stuff.” Ymir said, concentrating on the road. She was a truly awful driver when distracted, and it didn’t help that she’d learnt to drive in an automatic car whilst Historia’s old car had gears. Yeah, it had taken a while to get used to that and involved more stalling in the middle of busy junctions than she liked to admit. 

“You feeling okay today?” Sasha asked, her tone light. Ymir shrugged.

“I’m okay. Feeling a bit -” She broke off and cast around for the right word. “I don’t know. I’m fine though, don’t worry about it.” She tacked on hastily. Despite Sasha’s outward appearance of being super chill, she was far more shrewd than Ymir realised. She was also a terrible mother hen, to the point where she cooked Ymir food and brought it around for her on bad days. Basically, she read far too much in the shit Ymir spouted on a daily basis and worried too much about it.

“Okay.” Sasha said easily, leaving her be. “You just ran a red light though.” 

“Fuck.” Ymir muttered. “I need a fuckin’ cigarette.” 

It was way too early for this amount of thought.


	14. Chapter 14

Ymir had a life drawing class at nine with Sarah, who was one of the friends she’d met through Sasha. Sarah was a petite, auburn haired girl who tutted viciously whenever Ymir lit up in front of her. 

“That’s so gross.” Sarah muttered, kicking the wall absently with the toe of her moccasins. Ymir inhaled deeply, eyes fluttering shut. The first cigarette of the day was equal parts bliss and pain, when you’ve been smoking as long as Ymir. 

The first drag burnt her throat and she coughed and thumped her chest. “Fuck.” She grimaced. “That hits the spot.”

“That’s gonna kill you.” Sarah said, glancing at the time on her phone. “We’re gonna be late to class.”

“Something’s gotta kill me.” Ymir said reasonably. “And we’ll get there in time, don’t worry.”

Sarah was skittish and nervous in that neurotic way which people with older parents were. Ymir could tell her parents must be like, seventy or something, judging by some of the crap she came out with. She was one of those _health conscious_ people, a complete germ freak, as well as a notorious hypochondriac. Ymir didn’t mind her, she pleasant enough to be around and was a brilliant painter, but all her worrying stressed her out big time. Sarah either needed to get fucked, or stoned. Badly.

Ymir finished her cigarette off quickly, less because it was bothering Sarah and more because she was feeling inexplicably stressed. She ran through all the things she’d needed to do by today, organising her folder, getting some ideas down about her final piece, remembering her sketchbook - she checked every box, but there was still this strange panicky stressed out feeling that made her chest feel tight. She put it down to the fact that this college year was going to be the first one spent in complete control of her functions, unlike last year’s painkiller induced daze, and followed Sarah to class.

She wasn’t really a huge fan of life drawing, only because she wasn’t very good at drawing realistic looking people. It also didn’t help that Sarah was some sort of genius when it came to anatomy. Ymir usually spent the class counting the number of moles and freckles on the model and thinking about her next smoke break.

“How much d’you think they get paid?” She hissed to Sarah, who didn’t even look up from her sketchpad to answer.

“Don’t know.” 

“Do you think I’d be good at it?”

“Don’t know.” Sarah paused and looked up. “Actually, no. No. You’re too twitchy.”

“You’re one to talk.” Ymir mumbled, and received a sharp kick in the shin for her troubles. She grumbled and went back to sketching the nude model in front of them. At the first life drawing lesson she had ever attended the model was this middle aged dude with like, a beer belly and a sad looking dick and Ymir had almost laughed herself sick when she realised she was going to have to sit and look at him for two hours. Sarah had called her a child and asked if she was gay, or something, and had she ever even seen a dick before, Jesus. Things hadn’t improved from there. Right now she was giving herself a headache from holding back laughter at the amount of back hair this old dude had, because she was apparently five years old.

It was a relief when the teacher signalled the end of the class the guy slipped a robe on before going behind a screen to get changed. Ymir packed away her pencils and sketchpad whilst continuing the conversation with Sarah.

“I’d be a lot cuter than some of the models we get in.” 

She spotted Sarah’s gaze flicking down to her wrists as her sweater sleeves rolled up, because she was like that. “You’re so unprofessional.” She said, turning aside to put her own stuff away. “It’s not about whether they’re cute or not. If they have interesting bodies, it’s better to draw.”

“I have an interesting body.” Ymir insisted as they left the classroom.

“What’s that, Ymir?” A voice called out from behind them, and Ymir turned with a smirk as Sarah rolled her eyes and sighed. 

“Just trying to convince Sarah to let me model for her.” Ymir said jokingly, slinging her arm around the person who’d spoken with ease.

“Disappointing.” He said, pushing his long hair out of his eyes. “I thought you were finally ready to cross over to the good side.”

Armin Arlet. Tiny, blond and gay. A genius with Copic markers. Ymir tightened her hand in the shoulder of Armin’s sweater and laughed. “Oh, Armin, there’s some things you need to learn about me.” 

“Do tell.” Armin said with a bright smile, and flinched away laughing when Ymir aimed a slap at the back of his head. Dimly, she heard Sarah greet Sasha, who sounded as laid back as ever.

“Are you free now?” Ymir asked Armin, moving her arm from his shoulders. Ymir had a session in the afternoon that was going to be taken up with prep for her final piece, but was free all day otherwise. Armin shook his head.

“I’ve gotta head over to the library to work on my report for Mr Pixis. He’s been on my ass all last week about it, so I guess I should at least start it.” Armin said in a resigned tone, hitching his bag higher on his shoulder. Ymir nodded. She knew Sasha had a life drawing class straight after she did on a Monday, and Sarah was prepping for a mock test all day. 

“I guess I’ll head over to the art rooms and see if Erd is over there.” She said, much to Armin’s amusement. 

“Erd? Do you mean Mr. Gin?” 

“He asked me to call him that!” Ymir exclaimed defensively. “God, why do you think I’m so intent on fucking him, Jesus.”

“He‘s so your type. I’ve seen that dude who used to meet you after college last year.” Armin waved his thin hands in Ymir’s face. “ _Butch_.” His tone made Ymir laugh and she shoved Armin’s hands away. 

“Yeah, that’s right. Bulging muscles. Dicks.” She said viciously, thinking of Historia’s soft thighs and small breasts. She knew Armin was talking about Jean, who she hadn’t spoken to for a few weeks. Armin laughed with her before departing from the library. Sarah and Sasha were already gone, disappeared whilst she was joking with Armin.

She lit up, considered having to listen to Erd talk about his fucking band and having to look at his fucking ponytail, and hightailed it out of the building. Some things were too painful for a Monday morning. She’d need the patience of a saint to put up with his wandering hands on a morning when she was feeling so weird, and the patience of a saint she had not.

Ymir waved to a couple of people she knew as she left, but didn’t stop to talk to anyone. She wondered what people’s impressions were of her, whether they knew what had gone down last year. She decided she didn’t really care. There were probably people here who knew about Historia, even. It was hard to keep things on the down low in such a tight community as college and school. Everybody knew everyone’s business, that’s just how it was.

She stopped at a phone box and pushed a couple of coins in before dialling Jean’s number. Armin’s mention of him made her want to see him. She felt like she needed a bit of a physical distraction from her thoughts today, and Jean was always available. He’d dropped out of college because he was supposed to be in some sort of garage band or whatever, but needless to say it wasn’t exactly taking off.

He answered on the fifth ring, voice stick thick with sleep. “Yeah?”

“You in?” Ymir asked, not bothering to introduce herself. Jean made a sleepily surprised noise that Ymir found sorta cute, but in that way that old people were cute. She was kind of regretting phoning him now. She exhaled smoke sharply, annoyed at herself.

“Ymir?”

“No, it’s Jesus Christ our lord.” Ymir said dryly, slumping sideways against the cracked Perspex of the phone box and tucking her sketchbook against her chest. 

“I’m in.” Jean said, suddenly sounding quite awake. Ymir rolled her eyes. Boys were so easy. “What, you wanna come over?”

“You still with that dude, Eren?” Ymir plucked at the front of her jumper. It was covered in toast crumbs from a few days ago. _Gross_ , she mused. 

“We’re on a break.” Jean said huffily, and Ymir rolled her eyes.

“When are you not on a fuckin’ break with him?” She snorted. “Stop going on breaks every time he gets pissed with you.”

“Ymir, we’re fuckin’ -” Jean broke off and make a frustrated noise. “Are you coming over or not?”

“Yeah, I‘ll be over in a bit.” Ymir said and hung up before he could answer. Feeling a little bit better, she finished her cigarette on the way back to Historia’s car - _her_ car now. She shook her head at herself as she drove. She had to stop referring to it as Historia’s car.

She had a weird love/hate relationship with the car. On one hand, she wasn’t spending a fortune on public transport every day and didn’t have to freeze her ass off walking in the winter, but it was still _Historia’s_ , no matter how many times Ymir hotboxed it with Sasha or spilled take away on the upholstery. There were these tiny reminders of Historia all over the place that Ymir couldn’t fucking stand. Initially, she completely avoided the car unless it was necessary because it was just too painful to sit in it and remember all the moments she and Historia had shared in the goddamn thing.

There was still stuff that made it hard for her, even after the car stopped smelling like Historia’s perfume. Ymir vividly remembered opening the glove box in search of a pen (Historia was the sort of person who always had a pen on her) and finding stacks of notes Historia had written to herself to remind her of things. It was all really inane shit like, ‘ _ask levi if annie can cover shift next sat_ ’ or ‘ _pick up bananas celery mushrooms on way home_ ’, but seeing Historia’s neat, round handwriting had made her chest ache with sadness. Even Historia’s old tapes made Ymir feel a little blue. Basically, Ymir was a sap who was taking a very long time to get over an ex.

Maybe that’s why she found herself seeing Jean so often. He was safe, she’d been there before, she knew him. It wasn’t particularly exciting, but he was a nice dude who went well beyond the call of duty to make her feel good. She couldn’t really ask for more from a fuck buddy/friends with benefits/whatever the fuck he was to her. She only ever hooked up with him when he and his on-again-off-again boyfriend were fighting, and it was the only time he wanted to hook up with her. She had to admire that at least. Kind of.

He opened the door to her in his underwear, hair sticking up all over the place like he’d just dragged himself out of bed. Ymir stepped over the threshold and shoved him back a little, palm smacking flat against his bare chest. He gave her a slow half smile, and Ymir smirked back.

He was pulling her jumper over her head before they even closed the door.

Afterwards, Ymir smoked one of Jean’s expensive cigarettes and tried to ignore how mushy he got after he had an orgasm. They were sitting in the same bed that Ymir had pinned Historia down in a long time ago and Ymir was feeling gloomy. She exhaled miserably and listened half heartedly to Jean talk about his band.

“We’re trying to incorporate this whole So-Cal, ska thing into our sound.” He said seriously, and pinched the cigarette from Ymir’s hand, taking a long drag. He exhaled. “You, know early Green Day kinda sound…you get me? Think Sublime, but edgy.”

Ymir nodded, feigning interest. Jesus, he was pretentious. It was too easy to forget how seriously he took himself when he had his big hands on her. She took the cigarette back and took a harsh drag, wishing she had her shitty cheap cigarettes that left her actually feeling like she was doing some damage.

“Mid-morning sex is depressing.” Ymir muttered in a lull in their one-sided conversation. She let her head tip back against the wall, and Jean took advantage of her bared throat to kiss it. She grimaced, what a cliché. 

“I’m wounded.” He said lightly, kissing from her neck down to her shoulder. “You seemed into it.”

“I was thinking of Historia.” Ymir said truthfully. She knew she was being a bitch, especially since this had all been her idea, but she was regretting it now it had happened. She should know herself better by now to know that she always felt shitty after sleeping with Jean. God, she always felt so _guilty_. She’d met his boyfriend before, a skinny, dark guy with these incredibly big teal eyes. He seemed like the sort of person Ymir would get along with, passionate and quick to anger. Except it was his anger that left him at odds with Jean so much, and led to huge fights and falling outs. Jean liked to think he was pretty chill, but he had a bad temper as well. 

“Are you telling me you’re still hung up on her?” Jean asked in disbelief, drawing away from Ymir. She tipped her head to the side and pouted. “You’re unbelievable.” 

Ymir untangled herself from the sheets and stood, pulling on her underwear from where it had been dropped to the floor. She felt Jean’s eyes on her but didn’t really enjoy it.

“Jesus, Ymir, what’s that?” Jean exclaimed as she turned to pick up her jeans where they’d been kicked off at the door to his bedroom. She froze.

“What’s what?” She asked, running through a mental catalogue of what he could be possibly talking about. He’d seen the scars on her thighs before, right? That was old news. Maybe she had a gross back mole she didn’t know about. “Do I have a gross back mole?”

Jean ignored her and leant across the bed to beckon her closer. She obliged, and was surprised when he gripped her arm gently, just below the crook of her elbow. “Is that a bruise?”

Ymir looked down at her bicep with some surprise. Oh yeah, she’d forgotten about that. A large, purple/yellow bruise in the perfect shape of a large hand stood out against her skin. She looked at the fingers bruised into her arm and shrugged. “It’s nothing. Completely forgot it was even there.” She tugged her arm out of Jean’s grip.

“Who did it?” Jean asked, and really, he shouldn’t be so surprised at mystery bruises appearing on Ymir’s skin. 

“Ah, some guy. He thought I was a dude I guess.” She walked out the room to pick up her t-shirt from the top of the stairs. She’d get her jumper when she left. When she walked back in, Jean was staring at her.

“You haven’t been in a fight for months.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Ymir shrugged her shirt on over her head and ran a hand through the short hair at the nape of her neck. “Look, I’ve gotta get back to class.”

“You’re not dealing with this well.”

“I am!” She insisted. This was unfair, she genuinely was. The fight had been an anomaly, she hadn’t even been planning it. She’d spilt his beer, it was perfectly reasonable. She would have done the same. She hadn’t even enjoyed it that much.

“Ymir-”

“I don’t need you to coax me through this, Jean!” She snapped. Jean was still naked, only the duvet covering his hips. Ymir felt in control, standing there with her clothes on and her breasts still sore from where he’d bitten them. “Please don’t turn this into a thing.” She said, quieter.

“It’s a bit too late for that, Ymir.” Jean said in disbelief. “You just told me you were thinking of your ex- _girl_ friend whilst fucking me.”

There were a couple of long beats of silence in whilst Ymir glared icily at Jean, her head thudding inside her ribcage. Finally, she broke it. “Bye.”

“Ymir, wait.”

“Goodbye.” She said, leaving the room and heading quickly down the stairs. “Call your fucking boyfriend!” She yelled up the stairs before pulling her jumper over her head as she opened the front door and made her way to her car. She knew that Jean was watching her from his bedroom window, so she kept her back straight and proud as she climbed into the car and turned the key in the ignition.

As soon as she was back on the main road, she let her emotions come back through. She’d always been good at creating a barrier for her feelings when it was needed, but when she did let herself feel again, it was worse.

She gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles straining white against her skin. She wasn’t gay. Stuff like that didn’t happen to her. It just didn’t. She’d just experimented with a girl and had gotten attached, that’s all. “A fuckin’ fluke.” She muttered to herself, turning probably a bit too sharply into the college car park. “It doesn’t mean I like girls. I’m straight, and Historia was my exception. Everybody has an exception. People have their exceptions and Historia was mine.”

She parked haphazardly, but didn’t get out of the car straight away. She was still an hour early for her next class, and the thought of having to go into college made her feel sick. The whole sexuality crisis or whatever she was having right now was making her sick actually. The thought of coming out as gay made her heart clench in fear. She’d seen and heard the comments thrown at Historia, seen her being yelled at and mocked because of her sexuality. Like her body wasn’t even her’s anymore. She remembered an incident she’d heard about with Historia’s car a few years ago, remembered the ugly words spray painted all over it. The exact car she was currently sitting in. _Dyke, faggot, bitch_. She closed her eyes and groaned into her hands.

Hell, even Ymir herself had been on the receiving end of it more than once when she’d been out with Historia. People shoulder checking them whilst walking down the street holding hands, the hostile comments and stares. To have people hate you because of something you can’t control…no. She couldn’t be gay. She wouldn’t be able to handle it. Historia was brave and strong and cared a lot about her identity. Ymir was different. She was vocal about a lot of her opinions, and downright aggressive about some of them, but the thought of people knowing about this filled her with fear.

“What am I even saying.” She mumbled into her hands. Knowing about what? There was nothing to know about. She was straight, she’d just enjoyed sex with a guy and

- _thought about your ex-girlfriend in order to get off_ -

she’d probably do it again in the future. She’d go back to being like she used to, just as soon as she managed to get Historia out from under her fucking skin.

She grabbed her sketchbook off the passenger seat and sat like that for a minute, clutching the book against her chest and taking long, deep breaths. She regretted being an asshole to Jean, it wasn’t his fault that fucking her came with baggage, apparently. He’d only ever tried to help her and she was just being a bitch to him. Yeah, he was pretentious and kind of stupid, but so were 80% of people Ymir went to school with. She’d have to drop by later after college to apologise to him and hope he wouldn’t bring up Historia again.

She took a deep breath. It was going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise this'll pick up a little i'm just trying to get a kinda ?? idea of what ymir's doing now and how she's dealing etc etc. but. yeah. 
> 
> um this will probably be the last chapter for a little while just because i have my a-levels coming up so! i need to focus on school rn but if i get some time to write and upload another chapter between now and exam time then i'll upload it! 
> 
> enjoy!!


	15. Chapter 15

It was November and Ymir was feeling good.

College was going well - she was getting good grades on her artwork and her teacher was talking about setting up an interview with an illustration company for some kids TV network. It was all very exciting, the possibility of doing the thing she loved for a living. 

Her relationship with Jean had stabilised. She stopped going to him for random fucks which only made her feel worse, and he had stopped trying to lecture her on what was best for her. She didn’t see him a lot, but always turned up to his shitty basement shows and tried to look enthused. He was back with Eren. They looked happy.

Her job at the coffee shop wasn’t in jeopardy anymore since she’d managed to mellow out a little and try and get along with Annie. The whole self hate thing was apparently not very conducive to a good working relationship with someone. They sometimes went out for a drink together and Annie was actually really nice when Ymir tried to kiss her that one time.

Annie had actually changed a lot from what Historia had told Ymir about her. At seventeen she had been a bratty daddy’s girl with an attitude problem and just enough of an urge for independence to snag a job in a coffee shop. At going on twenty she’d ditched the attitude (for the most part) as well as daddy’s trust fund and was currently working towards a journalism degree. She was still cold and slightly unfriendly but incorporated actual humour into her usual repertoire of snarky comments and rude instructions. She was also devastatingly gorgeous.

Ymir remembered very little of Annie from before she worked at the coffee shop. She was a background character, grey in comparison to Historia. She remembered a big nose and an almost permanent expression of disgruntlement, but not a lot else. When she started working with her, Ymir found her an annoyance, a personality too close to hers and too easy to clash with. Both of them were abrasive people. People who didn’t work well together. 

It was only when they began working together again after Ymir began to start feeling better that she actually noticed Annie. She had matured physically from her seventeen year old self in a way which Ymir hadn’t realised before. Maybe it was the haircut - she had cut all that blonde hair to a choppy bob which hung just past her jaw, but Ymir found herself taking an interest all of a sudden. 

Like she said, Annie was very nice about it - she didn’t even hit Ymir very hard when she had gone in for a drunken kiss. However, it did cause Ymir to have a good think on the whole ‘I’m straight, Historia was an exception’ theory she’d conned herself into believing.

It was Saturday morning, and Ymir was trying to pick all the cat hairs off her jeans whilst studiously avoiding looking at Annie’s legs in her unseasonably short skirt. After a few minutes, Ymir muttered an annoyed, “Aren’t you cold?” Annie turned her lazy blue eyes on her.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” She shot back. Ymir grumbled but began to clear away empty glasses and mugs from the tables. It was relatively busy, slower than usual for a Saturday morning, but not so much that they both had nothing to do. Annie was on the tills because she was supposed to be studying for a test over the weekend and had her books hidden under the counter. Ymir watched her as she carried a tray of empty mugs back to wash. She leant forward over her book, tucking a wayward strand of soft, blonde hair behind her ear. Ymir dumped the mugs into the sink viciously.

“Stop staring at me.” Annie said absently, turning a page. Ymir felt herself go red and turned the taps on over the mugs, hard, so the sound of water drowned out any attempt at further conversation. 

“I’m not staring.” Ymir said, more to preserve her own integrity than anything else. She began to scrub at the dirty cups, wrinkling her nose. She supposed it was cute and folksy to have mismatched china mugs for hot drinks, but it really got old when she had to wash about a thousand every day. Silently, she offered a prayer to anyone listening for Levi to introduce nice, easy, biodegradable cardboard cups.

Annie let it drop, but Ymir could practically _feel_ the disapproval emanating off her. Ymir finished washing the mugs, Annie read her textbook, helped Ymir serve a few people. They operated in mostly silence, or making playful jabs at each other, but they worked well together. Ymir remembered Historia mentioning working well with Annie. It surprised Ymir that she was the sort of person who was easy to work with, considering her spiky demeanour.

“Do you think I’m gay?” Ymir blurted out of nowhere, catching Annie by the arm as she brushed past her to the coffee machine. Annie gave her a pained look, and Ymir looked past her to the rather stunned looking dude standing at the counter.

“I don’t think this is really the time for that minefield, Ymir.” Annie said, tipping her head to the side and nudging Ymir out of her way. Ymir was affronted.

“Minefield? What do you mean by that?”

Annie didn’t look at her and instead busied herself with making the customer’s coffee. Ymir waited patiently as she served it to him and he paid before making a hasty exit.

“Like I said, not really the time for it.” Annie said before going back to her textbook. “Can you test me on this?”

Ymir grumbled but held her hand out for the actual fucking tome Annie hefted on her. “Yeah, sure, whatever.”

“We can go get some fast food and talk about it later, if you really want.” Annie said, voice softening. 

Ymir nodded slowly, not taking her eyes of the book. “Yeah, okay.”

\-----------

Ymir drove them both out to a Burger King and even bought Annie’s food, that’s how kind she was feeling. They took a seat at a greasy booth and Ymir watched as Annie began to pick her food apart. 

“Don’t watch me eat.” Annie said, irritated. Ymir shrugged and brought her feet up to rest next to Annie on the bench. Annie rolled her eyes and pointedly shifted away from Ymir’s boots. “Put your feet down.” She hissed. “Be civilised.”

Ymir ignored her and took a big bite out her burger, leaning back in her booth and crossing her ankles. “So, elaborate on the minefield of my sexuality.” She only spoke with her mouth full to irritate Annie. Goddamn, she got a kick out of making Annie scrunch up her pretty face.

“I don’t know.” Annie sucked on the straw of her milkshake, and shook her head. “How am I supposed to tell you what you are? I don’t know, Jesus.”

Ymir changed her approach. “Okay, but do _you_ think I’m gay?”

Annie shrugged and took a bite of her burger. She looked vaguely uncomfortable. “I guess so. I mean, you were in a relationship with Historia. You tried to kiss me? You seem kinda aggressive about being straight as well.” She held her hands up when Ymir shot her a dirty look. “You asked!”

“I don’t want to be gay.” Ymir said in a small voice, staring at her food, appetite suddenly gone.

“Sexuality’s fluid.” Annie said casually, popping a chip in her mouth. “You could date a few girls, go out with some dudes, it’s not a big deal. I mean, you don’t have to label yourself as anything. Just ‘cos Historia did doesn’t mean you have to. But if you’re saying that it makes you uncomfortable then I don’t know what to tell you.”

“No, it’s not that!” Ymir insisted. “I just don’t want people to hate me for something I can’t help!”

Annie’s steely expression softened slightly. “If people hate you for something like that, they’re not worth it anyway.” She seemed to sense the conversation going into uncomfortably friendly territory and continued quickly. “Besides, there’s so many legit things about you to hate, you’d have to know they weren’t worth it if they picked who you like to fuck.”

Ymir flipped her off before burying her face in her folded arms on the table to hide her grin. Fuck, it felt nice to have a person to talk to about stuff like this. “I think I’m not straight.” Ymir mumbled into her arms, nose to the greasy tabletop. She heard Annie hum in agreement.

“I think so too.”

They sat in silence for a bit, Ymir picking at her food with more vigour than before. She was feeling better about the whole thing. It didn’t matter. She had been worrying over labelling herself for so long now that it had eclipsed what was actually important, which was making sure she was happy with this. She ruminated on it as she ate.

“I don’t think I’m gonna label myself as anything.” She said at last to Annie, who raised her eyebrows at her in askance, mouth full. “I think I’m just gonna…go with it. It’ll work itself out. I’m just not gonna think too much about it and let myself be attracted to whoever I want.”

“Cool.” Annie commented and got up to throw her empty wrappers in the bin.

“What should I do now?”

Annie shrugged. “Whatever you want. Get laid, maybe?”

Ymir thought this over carefully, balling up her greasy burger wrapper as she did so. “I don’t know how to go about that.” She said finally. Her fingers were twitching for a cigarette. “I need a smoke.”

Ymir gave Annie one her of cigarettes because she was a fucking saint, and they sat inside the car smoking in the Burger King car park. Ymir lit up, not minding the flame burning her thumb as she did so, and sighed. The first drag she took seemed to iron out all the stress from her body. “Y’know, I was thinking of quitting.” She said to Annie out of the corner of her mouth, lips clamped around the cigarette as she put the lighter back in the glove box. “But I needed something to keep my hands busy.” She waved her hands before dropping one into her lap and ashing her cigarette out the open window with the other. She exhaled beatifically, tasting smoke on her tongue.

“You’ve burnt your thumb there.” Annie pointed out, and Ymir twisted her hand to look at it.

“Yeah, I guess so.” She rubbed the shiny red patch of skin with her forefinger. It hurt in that slow, hot way burns always hurt. She remembered pressing cigarette butts into her thighs and gave Annie a sharp smile. “I’ll live.”

She dropped Annie off at her uni dorms, marvelling at how rich she must be to throw away money on accommodation. _Despite the fact that she hadn’t even moved to go to university._ Her parents lived literally half an hour away. Ymir shook her head as she pulled away from the curb. _Rich girls_. She’d never understand it.

Ymir considered going up to Sasha’s flat and hanging out on her dramatically cleaner floor, but remembered that Sasha had gone out to a party that night. She’s asked Ymir if she’d like to come, but Ymir had declined since she was in the middle of her dumb sexuality crisis or whatever. She heaved a huge sigh and settled her forehead against the steering wheel, letting her shoulders drop in defeat. Another boring Saturday night unless she managed to find a party she wouldn’t get turned away at the door from. She considered the little leather dress she had for when she wanted to get into any party anywhere, but she didn’t really want gross dudebros trying to grope her all night.

Fuck, she was twenty three years old. She could go out to a bar by herself. She could try and hook up with someone if she was so desperate not to spend another Saturday night with her cat and her Korean dramas. “Live a little, Ymir.” She muttered to herself, casting one last glance back at the house Annie had just disappeared into. “You’re perfectly capable of doing it alone.”

It wasn’t until later, however, when she was enjoying a microwave lasagne with Titan, did Annie text her. 

She jumped when the phone chimed, not used to having one. She’d caved and bought it about a month ago when she realised that she was missing out on a lot because her friends couldn’t call her. She barely ever used it and kept it inside a single shoe by the door so she wouldn’t lose it, but at least she had it.

She stood up to retrieve the phone from it’s place by the door, Titan hefted over her shoulder, mewing obnoxiously. She rolled her shoulders, working out the kinks, and stretched as she checked the message. She was mildly surprised to see Annie’s name on the screen, and even more so that she even had Ymir’s number, let alone Ymir having Annie‘s. She opened it, squinting to read the writing.

_party tonight at mine bring booze + wear something nice_

Ymir scowled and slowly punched out a reply, muttering out loud to herself. 

_busy tonight might give it a miss_

Annie’s reply was practically instantaneous. Ymir huffed and hoisted Titan into a more stable place over her shoulder. Her feet were getting cold standing by the door like this, and she looked through the window to check the weather. It was pitch black outside at 7.00. The thought of getting dressed up and going outside on a fucking winters night made Ymir want to curl up and die. She opened Annie’s text whilst balancing on one leg to warm her toes up in her hand. 

_eating microwave meals in ur undies isn’t busy put ur cat down and get cute i’m gonna pick u up in half an hour_

Ymir scowled at her phone and gently lowered Titan to the floor. Annie knew her too well, this was fast approaching into friendship territory. She texted back a quick _ur a fuck_ before dashing to take a quick shower. 

Annie had rung her when she’d gotten out of the shower to ask her where her flat was. Ymir gave her probably completely useless instructions as she stood shivering in the middle of her flat. 

____“I’m gonna get changed now.” She told Annie, who made a noise of affirmation._ _ _ _

____“I’ll be over in a bit.” She said before she hung up. Ymir tossed the phone onto the couch and let her towel drop as she walked over to her dresser. She opened the top drawer and stared in abject horror at the crumpled up clothes inside._ _ _ _

____Ymir was a terrible dresser. She wore the same thing day in and day out, occasionally switching a pair of dirty jeans with a pair of identical clean ones, or changing her t-shirt when it got stained or smelly. She was guilty of picking up clothes of the floor and doing the smell test on them. If they smelt okay, she wore them. The majority of her wardrobe was draped on the couch or over the partition between the sofa and her bed. The rest was balled up in her dresser because she was too lazy to fold clothes. She sighed and began to sift through the clothes in search of her cute underwear. She supposed this was the sort of occasion to wear a bra. Maybe she should have shaved her armpits? Parties were hard when you were twenty three and a completely different person to the teenager you had been._ _ _ _

____She was still standing by the dresser, although now in her underwear, when Annie knocked on the door a little while later._ _ _ _

____“It’s open!” She called, as she would with Sasha or Armin or any of her friends._ _ _ _

____“Ymir, why don’t you have any clothes on.” Annie asked tightly as she closed the door behind her. Ymir didn’t turn round, just whined and slammed her drawers shut._ _ _ _

____“I have nothing to wear I don’t want to go out, c’mon.” She made a beseeching face at Annie, who looked unconvinced. “Please go away.”_ _ _ _

____“Not good enough, I bought you a dress of mine you can wear.” Annie took a seat on the sofa and threw a bundle of fabric at Ymir, who caught it. Ymir eyed it contemplatively._ _ _ _

____“What if it doesn’t fit? I‘m a lot taller than you.”_ _ _ _

____“It’s too long on me.” Annie said, propping her feet up on the table._ _ _ _

____“Make yourself comfortable why don’t you.” Ymir muttered, but pulled the dress on over her head. She looked down at herself critically, pinching the hem of the skirt between her fingers and trying to tug it down a little._ _ _ _

____It was just above mid-thigh, basically only just covering her butt. Black velvet. She grimaced and adjusted her boobs in the top. “How does it look?” She glanced over to Annie, who had her arms crossed and a calculating look in her eye. “This is the girliest thing I’ve worn for years.”_ _ _ _

____“It looks better on you than it does on me.” She said eventually, and then she tsked irritably, looking pointedly at Ymir’s skinned knees and elbows. “What are you, twelve?”_ _ _ _

____“Whatever.” Ymir said defensively. “I ripped the knees of my jeans when I was skateboarding.”_ _ _ _

____Annie gave her a disparaging look. “That’s not cute.”_ _ _ _

____“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Annie, but I’m not very cute.” Ymir snapped, crossing her arms over her chest and hunching her shoulders. Annie scowled and shrugged._ _ _ _

____“Okay, fine, whatever. But you look nice. Do you want to come, or what?”_ _ _ _

____Thrown off by Annie’s compliment, Ymir raised her eyebrows and smiled at her. “You look nice too, idiot.”_ _ _ _

____“God, you’re a loser.” Annie said with no real bite to her words. She was even smiling slightly. “Put some makeup on and your god-awful boots, you’re going to this party tonight. You need it.” She added, looking deliberately at the abandoned microwave meal on the kitchen counter and the stack of Korean drama DVDs Ymir was currently working her way through._ _ _ _

____Ymir flipped her off but did as she was told, before getting into Annie’s surprisingly crappy car. She couldn’t believe she was actually letting Annie spirit her away to a party she didn’t really want to go to. She was weak._ _ _ _

____“I’m weak.” She told Annie, who agreed._ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the super long gap between updates coursework/exams/revision has been crazy so!! expect another long gap between this and the next update tbh i'm sorry
> 
> also more annie!! i love annie
> 
> also i just want to say thank you to everyone who has left kudos or comments or bookmarked this godawful fic it means a lot!! i didn't expect this to get much attention so thank you!!


	16. Chapter 16

The party was okay. Ymir drank too much like she usually did and hooked up with a cute little redhead whose name she didn’t catch. She met these two huge guys, Reiner and Bert, who Annie introduced as her boyfriends with a steely look in her eyes as if to say _go on, fuck with them_. Ymir was too surprised and too drunk to react and instead tried to kiss Bert, who looked terrified and sweaty. Reiner was broad and strong looking, and dragged Bert and Annie away before Annie could kick her ass or Bert could pass out from embarrassment.

After that she ended up crashing on Annie’s floor because she was too drunk to walk home. The most important thing though, was that this time she didn’t try and drunkenly get off with her work colleague. Just her boyfriend, almost.

She was brushing her teeth with Annie’s toothbrush, nursing a splitting headache, when Annie found her.

“Morning.” She said blearily, stumbling into the bathroom and sitting down on the closed toilet seat. She blinked up at Ymir. “Is that my toothbrush?”

“Yes.” Ymir nodded and spat a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink. “Hello.”

“That’s disgusting.” Annie said mildly, then hunched over her knees and buried her face in her hands. “Did you have a good time last night?”

Ymir studied herself in the mirror. Her bed head was truly phenomenal, and she still had pillow creases on her cheek. “Yeah, it was good.” She touched a bruise that was beginning to form on her neck. “I think that girl gave me a hickey.”

“Nice.” Annie commented. “I’m about to throw up I think.”

“Okay.” Ymir said dumbly, and held her hair back for her when she did. It was totally due to Annie that Ymir got any action last night, so she guessed she could hold her hair when she puked. It was only decent.

Annie’s house was an absolute tip. She shared it with a girl who she went to university with and her boyfriends, but they were still sleeping off their hangovers. Ymir surveyed the mess, clutching a mug of coffee like it was her lifeline. Annie stood next to her, looking a lot better than she had when she’d just woken up. Ymir wondered idly if she’d feel better if she threw up too.

She took a sip of the scalding coffee, and felt herself come back to life as the caffeine went into her bloodstream. “So who’s gonna clean this up.”

“Not me.” Annie said decisively. “Do you want to go eat something greasy?”

Ymir’s stomach flipped nauseatingly at the thought. “I’ll pass on the food but I’ll come with if you’re desperate.”

Annie snorted. “Yeah, like I’m desperate to watch you fidgeting for a smoke the whole time.” But they got their shoes and threw on coats and walked to the nearest café, still in their clothes from last night. Ymir smoked a cigarette on the way over not to annoy Annie and scowled when she realised what she was doing.

“We’re like, friends, aren’t we?” She asked once they were in the warmth of the café. She was holding a cup of strong black coffee to her chest, and Annie was poring over the breakfast menu. 

“I guess so.” Annie muttered. She didn’t even look up from the menu. “You’re still an idiot though.”

“You’re still a fuckwad.” Ymir said easily, slipping down in her seat to nudge Annie’s legs under the table.

“Shut up.” Annie laid the menu down on the table and took a sip of her own coffee.

“I’m sorry, but as your _friend_ I don’t know if you should talk to me like that.” Ymir said mockingly, grinning when Annie rolled her eyes.

“Okay, I’m revoking my friendship. We’re not friends anymore.”

Annie held out on not being Ymir’s friend for as long as it took for her food to come. As she ate, her mood gradually improved until she wasn’t pissy at Ymir anymore and was ready to talk to her again.

“So what are you gonna do when you get home?” Annie said, focused on her huge English breakfast in front of her. Ymir averted her gaze, stomach still feeling gross.

“Soak in the bath for approximately three years.” She mumbled, cradling her coffee under her chin. The café was fairly full and the constant clatter of cutlery paired with the familiar hiss of the coffee maker was exacerbating her headache. She was feeling as grumpy as Annie looked, actually. “Not a lot else.”

Annie hummed around a mouthful of bacon. “Sounds good.” They sat in silence, Ymir looking around the café and Annie eating her breakfast. Ymir wished she’d brought her notebook with her so she could draw some of the other customers, but she’d left it at home. She considered asking Annie for a pen so she could doodle on a napkin, but knew she wouldn’t have one. She didn’t have Historia’s uncanny ability to have a pen on her person at all times. 

Jesus, why was she thinking of Historia again? Could she go even a day without thinking about her? Ymir frowned into her mug. The amount of space that Historia occupied in her mind was concerning to say the least, especially since it was fast approaching two and a half years since she’d been gone. Would she ever completely get over her? She certainly hadn’t been thinking about Historia when she was kissing that girl last night, and it was only ever little things that reminded her of Historia anymore. It used to be that everything reminded her of Historia. The park by her flats, the coffee shop they’d visited one cold morning in February, even her stupid army jacket that Historia always liked to make fun of. Now it was tiny things which probably wouldn’t make sense to anyone but her. Kicking the boiler into starting up, getting a split lip from a fight, the smell of green tea.

Ymir opted to walk home after Annie had finished eating and they’d left the café. It was a fairly long walk to her block of flats, but the air was sharp and cold and she felt like walking to clear her head. She wondered idly if the girl from the party would try and call her. Maybe she should have asked for her number or something. She kicked a stone along for a while, thinking, before ducking inside a newsagents to buy a pack of cigarettes. She fished around in her shoulder bag for a while before unearthing her lighter and lit up. Inhaling quickly, she coughed as the smoke burnt her lungs. Smiling grimly, she continued walking home.

Titan greeted her with a disinterested meow when she came in and began circling his food bowl. Ymir opened a can of cat food and emptied it in his bowl, wrinkling her nose at the smell. She watched him eat for a second, zoning out, before walking into the bathroom, pulling off her borrowed dress at the same time.

Titan wandered in whilst she was lying in the bath, scratching a bitten down nail over the scabs on her knees. She swung an arm out of the tub to pat him and he purred contentedly.

“I should’ve gotten her goddamn number.” She muttered as her headache kicked back in again.

\----------

Ymir’s life settled into a comfortable monotony. She’d get up, shower, feed the cat, meet Sasha to go to college, work on coursework, draw in her spare time, eat lunch with Armin, snigger at the nude models. Worked the graveyard shift. Get drunk with Annie. Home, school, work. The sterile corridors of college, then the drive home, main road, side roads, pulling into the car park. Short wait in the lift and a long walk down the corridor. Home. Historia sitting outside her door.

Wait, what?

Ymir froze. It felt like every inch of her skin ended in a raw nerve. The shock of seeing Historia here, like nothing had happened, like she’d just come over and waited for Ymir to get home from work, was enormous. Ymir felt like she was going to be sick. Her fight or flight instinct was kicking in, her brain urging her to get away.

Oh, fuck.

“Historia?” She managed to choke out, eyes roving over the other girl as she stood and took a hesitant step towards where Ymir was frozen in shock.

Historia looked different. It wasn’t anything drastic, and Ymir could only tell because she was so familiar with how Historia had been before she’d left. She still looked the same. Big, laser blue eyes and petite, delicate features. She’s kept her hair long, only it was loose and wavy around her shoulders now instead of tamed in the thick, reliable plait Ymir remembered. Her face had matured, her cheekbones and jaw stronger now. She looked almost regal, standing there with her pale skin and high cheekbones. She looked so much older than the baby faced teenager Ymir remembered. With a jolt, Ymir realised that her glasses were gone. She was gazing nervously at Ymir with eyes un-obscured by thick glasses.

It was the way she held herself that made her a stranger in Ymir’s eyes. The Historia she remembered was small and hunched smaller. Always trying to take up even less space. Historia had always had an air of apology about her, like she was sorry for her very existence. She was nervous and twitchy, always cutting herself off and second guessing her words. This Historia stood tall, or as tall she could - Ymir was fairly certain she hadn’t grown an inch in her absence - with her shoulders back and her gaze unwavering, albeit nervous, on Ymir. She seemed to exude an air of confidence, something which Ymir had never expected to see on Historia.

She was beautiful.

“Hello.” Historia said, ducking her head quickly in a characteristic gesture that made Ymir ache with nostalgia. She felt a small flame of anger light in her chest.

“Historia.” Ymir repeated quietly, feeling the familiarity of the name on her tongue. She was still rooted to the spot. It was like her feet didn’t belong to her anymore. The fire grew. Her lips moved without her thinking about it. "What the hell are you doing here?" She heard herself say. Oh God, and now it had started. All the bitter resentment she thought she'd moved on from. All the months she wasted mooning over Historia and feeling sorry for herself. It was all coming up and she couldn't stop herself from continuing.

"What do you mean?" Historia said uncertainly, and Ymir felt the fire grow and overflow in her chest. Her anger felt molten. 

"What the fuck did you come here for?" She hissed, still frozen in place. She saw Historia's expression shift, and barrelled on. "I've been trying to get over you!" She clenched her fists by her sides. _Fuck_. "I've been getting better! You think you can just fuckin'… _turn up_ on my doorstep and think I'm gonna sweep you off your feet? Fuck you, you didn’t even call.”

Historia looked incredulous, and Ymir was surprised to notice that she wasn't backing down. "What?" She exclaimed, and Ymir thought her anger looked a lot more frightening without her glasses to shield her eyes. "Ymir, I tried to keep in touch with you. It's not my fault you're seriously incapable of not being an actual airhead and losing your phone every ten minutes!"

"I have a fucking postcode, don't I?" Ymir shot back, knowing that the people all along the hall were crowded at their doors right now, listening. "You could have written!"

"I _tried_ writing to you - you never replied!" Historia said with a touch of exasperation which grated on Ymir. As if Ymir was in the wrong.

"Yeah, you tried." Ymir scoffed. "For what, a month?"

Ymir noted the way Historia was clenching and unclenching her hands by her sides. It was surprising, Historia never rose to her bait. Maybe they'd have a real shouting match in the middle of the hall and Historia could go back to fucking America and leave Ymir to get on with her life.

"This is just fucking cruel." Ymir continued when it became clear Historia wasn't going to reply. "You shouldn't have come back. I was just getting over you. I fucking loved you." Her voice cracked on the last word, and she was horrified to realise there were tears welling up in her eyes. She blinked them away angrily.

"Fuck you." Historia said tiredly. "I still love you. At least you're moving on."

Ymir blinked at her, stunned. "What do you mean?"

"It's not like I planned it." Historia snapped miserably.

That struck Ymir right in the chest, right in her molten lava lungs. Her anger fizzled out as quickly as it came, and left her feeling empty and scared. "Please don't say that." She said in a low voice, looking up at Historia with wide eyes. "You don't know what I've been through to get here. _I‘ve got a life_. Unless you’re staying- I can't go through all that again." Historia's silence and downcast eyes spoke volumes, and Ymir groaned. "Fuck you, Reiss."

She didn't know which of them moved first, but a moment later Ymir was holding her, she was holding Historia after all that time. Ymir crushed her against her chest, her heart beating wildly like there was no time left in the world. Historia smelled like her old perfume, and Ymir pressed her face into her hair and breathed in. It hurt, to know this was temporary, but with her anger extinguished, all she felt was an unbearable loneliness and _want_.

“D’you want to come inside?” She asked, remembering vividly the first time she’d invited Historia up to her flat. She’d tried to play it cool and casual to mask the nervous fluttering of her stomach as Historia had deliberated. When Historia nodded, eyes still not meeting Ymir's, a faint blush appearing over those brand new cheekbones, Ymir unlocked the door and they stumbled in.

Once inside with the door safely shut from prying neighbours, they stared at each other for a few long beats of silence, in which Ymir could see Historia mentally cataloguing her. She felt oddly self conscious under her gaze, and for some stupid reason wanted to hide her wrists. She tucked her hands into her pockets and rocked back on her heels slightly. She hadn’t gotten into any fights recently, not for ages, so she shouldn’t have had to worry. She was better. She was going to continue to get better too. Ymir was determined to not let this set her back.

“I missed you so much.” Ymir whispered, her voice sounded strange to her own ears. High pitched and raw. Historia flinched and crowded closer to Ymir, as if she was unsure whether Ymir wanted to touch her or not. Ymir wasn't too sure herself, but drew Historia close anyway. She supposed she should savour it whilst it lasted. Historia tried to hug her even closer, and buried her face in Ymir’s chest again, shoulders shaking. Ymir held Historia close, afraid in case she was crying.

“Fuck you.” Ymir said tenderly, poking Historia in the middle of the chest. It wasn’t that hard, she wasn't as angry as she had been. Her anger had melted away when Historia had told her she still loved her. “Fucking fuck you, you asshole.”

Historia made an unhappy noise and ducked her head, bumping it lightly against Ymir’s collarbones. They were standing in the middle of the room, and Titan was currently weaving his way between their legs. Ymir squeezed Historia once more - god she was so solid and real and right in front of her - and released her, taking a step back so she could shrug her coat onto the floor and pull her boots off. She noticed the corner of Historia’s mouth twitch up in amusement as she spotted Ymir’s boots, and Ymir flipped her off. It was so comfortable, so familiar. She was so scared.

"Nice to see you still have your short temper." Historia said quietly, cautiously. That was familiar too.

“Come here.” She murmured, stepping backwards until her calves hit the mattress. She sat down on the bed and waited for Historia to take her coat and shoes off and join her. They didn't hold hands under the duvet, or even touch. Ymir wondered if it would be okay to kiss her.

“You look dumb without your glasses.” She said, her voice still sounding funny.

“You look like an idiot with that haircut.” Historia said tenderly, quiet.

Ymir actually felt tears pricking at the back of her eyes. Dumb. Idiot. “Is it okay if I kiss you?” She asked finally, the words coming out in a rush. She couldn't believe she had been goading Historia to leave just a few minutes ago. She was so grateful that Historia was too stubborn to listen to the shit she came out with.

“Yeah, I think so.” Historia replied softly, meeting Ymir's eyes for the first time since Ymir had started yelling at her.

Ymir kissed her like the world was going to end. She cupped the back of her neck, traced her fingers over her cheekbones, pressed kisses all over her, saving her lips for last. Historia kissed exactly like Ymir remembered, slow and steady. Ymir was aggressive, all clashing teeth and bitten lips. Ymir thought absently how well they went together. She didn't think about the redhead she had kissed weeks ago, and the girls in between. What was important were the soft puffs of air ghosting across her lips whenever Historia pulled away to breathe. The feel of Historia's hands clamped tightly in her short hair.

Historia started to say something, but tensed up as Ymir wriggled her hand under her jumper, stroking her thumb in smooth circles on Historia’s soft stomach.

“Is this okay?” She asked, eyes heavy on Historia’s.

Historia nodded mutely. “You sure you don’t want to talk about everything first?”

Ymir shook her head. She didn‘t want to overcomplicate this with her stupid habit of over thinking everything. Not when Historia was so alive and tangible under her fingers. "You're leaving in the morning, right?” Ymir whispered into Historia’s temple, and closed her eyes when she nodded, yes. "I don't want to waste any time." She said in a voice she didn't recognise as her own.

Historia relented then, and let Ymir press her into the mattress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait between updates again! my first exam is in a week so i'm kinda slow with writing this haha (the next chapter will probs be quite late too i'm sorry)
> 
> anyway yes ok. thank u for reading hope u enjoy + point out any mistakes as always!!


	17. Chapter 17

They fucked again in the morning, because Historia liked morning sex and Ymir couldn’t bear to let her go. It was slow and lazy, and Historia was pink cheeked and pretty as she gasped around Ymir’s thumb in her mouth. Ymir was above her, straddling one leg and grinding her clit down against Historia’s. She was making tiny whimpering noises, and Ymir’s hands looked so dark against the creamy flesh of her thigh. Ymir was gripping her hard enough to bruise. She hoped it would, a little token for Historia to take back across the sea with her. Maybe she’d only notice the finger shaped bruises when she got home. Ymir wished the bruises would linger forever.

Ymir coaxed Historia’s orgasm out of her slowly, gentle. She shook and shuddered underneath her and Ymir forgot about her own pleasure as she repositioned herself to taste Historia whilst she was still sensitive and twitching from her orgasm. She wanted to make her come again and again, so she missed her train and she missed her flight and had to stay with Ymir. She wanted to make her come until the only word she knew was Ymir’s name, slipping between her lips breathlessly. Ymir wanted to be the centre of someone’s world again.

Historia came again, whining and whimpering because she was still too sensitive, really. Ymir kissed her clit gently, loving the taste of Historia on her lips. She still tasted the same. She told Historia this, but Historia just made a soft noise in the back of her throat and reached down to tug on Ymir’s wrist, bringing her up to her level.

“Let me make you come.” Historia said seriously, but Ymir was already wrapping herself around her, sliding her hands down her bare back, feeling her ribcage and the bumps of her spine. It always came as a shock to Ymir how _tiny_ Historia was. How little and delicate on the outside, and so full of fire and strength on the inside. Her eyes without her glasses were too intense and Ymir couldn’t look at her without the fear of burning up under those laser sharp eyes.

Ymir came with the skin of Historia’s shoulder between her teeth, whimpering and gasping. Historia pulled her fingers out of her, and Ymir felt the loss keenly. She kissed the mark she’d left on Historia’s pale skin and pretended she didn’t hear when Historia mumbled ‘I love you’ into her chest, because it was too painful to hear things like that.

They talked, after, mumbling and slow and too sleepy for a proper conversation. Maybe that was for the best. Maybe Ymir wouldn’t remember Historia’s words in the morning and could convince herself that this was all a very vivid dream.

Historia told her that she’d been back in town for a few days. She’d seen Levi and Annie and a few other people before Ymir. Apparently she’d been too scared to look her up in case Ymir had moved away. Ymir heard the unspoken ‘in case you were dead’, but didn’t comment on it.

She was in university over in the US, apparently. Something to do with the environment. Ymir tuned out a little bit at this, because it was too painful picturing Historia living her life without Ymir. University meant long term commitment, which meant no moving back any time soon. With her luck, Historia would get a job out there, and all Ymir would have to remember her by was a couple of hickeys that would fade in weeks.

Their conversation faded in and out, hazy. Ymir just held onto Historia’s hand and pretended that she’d wake up with her next to her again. Historia talked about America and her father and her friends and avoided asking Ymir how she’d been. Ymir didn’t blame her. She wouldn’t ask how she was doing either.

When Ymir woke up for the second time that morning, the space next to her was cold and empty, and Historia was gone. 

\------------

Life fell back into place afterwards. Ymir went back to her routine, going through life slowly, barely noticing things around her.

It would be an overstatement to say that Ymir dropped back into depression after Historia left again. She was sad, sure. She felt numb and cut off from the rest of the world, but she managed. She dragged herself out of the bed she’d once shared with Historia, drove Historia’s car to college, sat through classes and lunches with friends. Worked. Came home and slept. Tried not to let her mind stay idle for too long, in case she began to really think about what had happened.

It was one of her problems, Ymir knew. She stayed inside her head too much, got caught up in her thoughts, blocked people out. It was unhealthy, to pour over memories and thought processes too much. So she lived her life and slept the weekends away to avoid herself.

It wasn’t that she was upset over Historia leaving again. She’d already come to terms with it, really. What had made her upset again however, was that she’d been healing, she’d been coping, getting her life back. Then Historia came back and showed Ymir that everything she was doing was just a flimsy distraction for how lonely she really felt.

Basically Ymir had gotten a reality check she wasn’t very happy with.

She didn’t want to tell her friends. They noticed that something was off, but Ymir just smiled it away and blamed it on college stress. She figured it would go away, the bone deep ache of something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It just needed to run its course, and she’d be fine again. 

It was Sasha who eventually dragged her out of her room, after practically busting down the door of her flat to come in. She sat her down on the sofa, ordered pizza, and told her to spill.

So. Ymir did. 

She told Sasha about Historia, about meeting her, getting to know her. How she fell for her. How she left, and how Ymir handled that. Sasha already knew some of that, she’d met Ymir not long after Historia had left, after all. She listened with a carefully blank expression, only really reacting when Ymir finished with Historia’s return and subsequent departure.

“She was gone when you woke up?”

“Yeah,” Ymir mumbled into her knees, curled up on the couch with her feet in Sasha’s lap. The pizza was going cold on the coffee table, but she reached out for a piece, suddenly hungry. “My life is a shitty romantic drama that I didn’t agree to.”

Sasha rubbed over the heel of Ymir’s foot distractedly. “Why was she back in the first place?”

Ymir swallowed and shrugged. “Visiting, she said. I dunno.”

“Maybe she came back to check on you?” Sasha hazarded, shrugging when Ymir shot her a dark look. “You don’t know.”

“She saw everyone else before me, I think she was probably dreading seeing me.”

Sasha cast her a critical glance, taking in her unwashed, overgrown hair, the pallid cast to skin. Ymir knew she looked like shit, but she couldn’t particularly find any energy to care. She dropped her head to her knees, and Sasha sighed.

“I don’t blame her, if she thought she’d be coming back to you looking like this.”

Ymir flipped her off half-heartedly. “I was better before she came back.”

“I know.” Sasha said quietly, and they sat in silence for a few minutes. Ymir’s head felt heavy and grey, stuffed full of cotton wool. She felt stupid and tired and slow and wanted nothing more to crawl into bed and shut the world out again. Sasha’s fingers on her ankle brought her back to solid ground.

“Do you still love her?” Sasha asked carefully. Ymir screwed up her face.

“I don’t think you ever stop loving someone when you have so many good memories of them. Especially since we didn’t part of bad terms, you know?” Ymir shrugged and glanced away. “It’s hard to forget someone.”

“I guess so.” Sasha mused.

“I just want her to be happy.” Ymir said firmly. “But I want me to happy too.”

“And you’d be happy if she came back?”

Ymir hummed thoughtfully. It would make her happy, being with Historia again, but it would take a lot of work. She didn’t think they’d be able to just fall into the same easy relationship they’d had before. Not after Historia’s disappearing act. Besides, they’d both changed so much - two years was a long time, and a lot could happen. “Maybe.” She said finally, and smiled self-deprecatingly when Sasha rolled her eyes.

It wasn’t like she hated Historia. Not at all. The ache in her chest was more from her sadness over what could have been, and that had only been solidified by Historia’s return. Seeing her again had made all that happened between them more real. It was unavoidable the impact that Historia had had on her, and some part of Ymir resented her for that. If she hadn’t met Historia she’d probably be in the same place she’d been in before. Although, was that the life she wanted? Almost always between jobs, perpetually late on her rent and living a shallow sort of life as though a layer was between her and the rest of the world. She supposed she should thank Historia for that, at least. She wouldn’t have met the friends she had, or gotten a steady job or enrolled in college. She was grateful for that.

She repeated all this to Sasha, somewhat less coherent than it had been in her mind. Sasha listened carefully, a furrow appearing between her brows as Ymir stumbled over her words, trying to get her to understand. 

“Ymir, you’re all over the place.” She said finally, and huffed a little laugh. “I’m gonna make coffee, you want?”

Ymir nodded, and watched as Sasha navigated her kitchen with the ease Historia once had. She missed her, a bone-deep ache that she never saw lifting. Historia had been such a permanent fixture of her life, solid and reliable, the only reliable thing in Ymir’s life at that point. It was hard to let go of someone like that - someone who’d influenced her so much.

“Maybe I just need to concentrate on myself.” Ymir said to Sasha’s back as she busied herself with the coffee. She made a noise of approval, spooning instant coffee into two of Ymir’s rather battered mugs.

“That’s a good idea.” She said, leaning back against the counter with a smile. Ymir nodded and stretched out on the sofa, making a frustrated noise. 

“I just really wish she hadn’t come back.” She muttered. “Or I wish that she’d have come back at a better time, and that she was here to stay. She should have known I wouldn’t be able to handle it well.”

Sasha shrugged one shoulder. “Have you ever thought that Historia was being as stupid about the whole thing as you?”

Ymir stared. It had never occurred to her that Historia might be having trouble adjusting without her, the thought had never crossed her mind. To her, Historia was the embodiment of sensible. Pining after a girlfriend she hadn’t seen in years was just so out of character that Ymir’s mind blanked. Historia moved on with life, she didn’t get stuck in the past like Ymir had a tendency to do.

“She’s not stupid though.” Ymir said uncertainly, accepting her coffee from Sasha as she crossed to the couch. “Thanks.”

Sasha shrugged and curled up at the other end of the sofa. “Love makes you do stupid stuff.”

“Yeah.” Ymir breathed, staring down at her coffee. “I guess it does.”

Sasha gave her a sad smile and leant forward to pat her on the knee. “You’ll be okay. You’re not alone.”

“Yeah.” Ymir repeated, feeling a lot lighter than she had in a long time, now that all that was off her chest. She gave Sasha a wonky smile. “I still love her though.”

Sasha gave her another sympathetic smile. “Don’t go ruining your life over one girl, Ymir.”

Ymir just nodded, staring into her coffee again, not bothering to explain that Historia was more than just _one girl_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an update!! finally!! i'm so sorry i've been so absent with this fic i've had a stressful few months that haven't made me want to return to writing this fic v quickly bc of the content etc but whatever i've finished sixth form now as well as my exams so hopefully the last couple of updates won't be so far apart!!
> 
> on that note: i forsee maybe one more chapter of this just to tie up some loose ends, then an epilogue and then!! it's finished!! i hope u all like this chapter it was a pain for me to write (i hated the first draft and deleted it, and still have a love/hate relationship with this one tbh) but hopefully it gives some insight into how ymir's feeling after historia left??
> 
> anyway ok sorry for the long notes enjoy the chapter! (and keep in mind i have a happy ending in store for this fic?? so stick it out idk)


	18. Chapter 18

Thanks to Sasha, as well as her other college friends, Ymir’s life gradually returned to something that almost resembled normal. She was still sad, but Sasha made an effort to get her out of bed and into college. Ymir didn’t like how much she was leaning on her friends, but supposed it was either that or vegetating in her room like she had been. 

A few weeks passed, and Ymir felt her life gradually returning to something that almost resembled normal. Like she thought, the sadness had just needed to run its course.

She got decent grades, she smiled, she laughed. She went on lunch dates with Armin and watched Jean’s shitty band play, was introduced to Eren properly as _the boyfriend_. She went to college, she went out, she worked, she lived a mechanical little life for a time, before the last few traces of hurt over Historia faded away and she began to live properly again.

She still thought about her most days, but in a nostalgic way. A healthy way. If she saw something that reminded her of Historia she’d acknowledge it, give herself a quick minute to wonder how Historia was getting on, before moving on. She didn’t _dwell_. 

Probably the most helpful influence on her managing to acknowledge her own unhealthy behaviour was the realisation of a few things. One, that Historia had been a hugely formative influence on Ymir, for a number of reasons but mainly just because Ymir was impressionable like that. Secondly, she identified her own unhealthy/self destructive streak that made it impossible to let go of pain, because she felt like she was deserving of it, in a way. The first few months after she’d asked Sasha for help, she’d felt guilty for feeling happy, no matter how short the amount of time was. 

“You’re too impulsive.” Armin had said, when Ymir had explained the whole situation to him. “Any sane person wouldn’t have invited their long lost ex-girlfriend into their flat and then promptly _fucked_ them. It’s unhealthy behaviour.”

Ymir had just flicked his forehead and proceeded to steal his coffee, which was always too sweet and sickly, but she drank it anyway by principle. Armin grumped, as usual, and they changed the topic to their final exam deadline, which was currently kicking Ymir‘s ass. 

“You coming out to Jean’s on Friday?” Armin asked, giving her a little sidelong glance over his reclaimed coffee. Ymir hummed thoughtfully. On the one hand, she had a metric shit ton of work to do for the exam, but it sounded fun to be able to get together with her friends. They hadn’t had a lot of time for get togethers what with all the exam prep and work, and she hadn’t seen Connie in months. 

She shrugged. “Sure, why not?” Armin smiled at her, and Ymir shot him a grin back.

\----------

She ended up spending the night at Jean’s, curled up on the sofa, legs thrown over Connie as the room spun gently around her. She was more than a little buzzed, thanks to Eren thinking he could out-drink her (and failing miserably) and despite it, sleep evaded her. All around the room were lumps of sleeping people, and she seemed to be the only one awake. 

After a couple of minutes of tossing and turning on the sofa, Connie shoved her legs off and told her to fuck off in a half-asleep mush of words. She kneed him in the temple in retaliation, but grabbed her jacket from where it was slung over the back of the sofa, and slipped outside.

Dawn was just breaking, the air chilly and the sky streaked with pink. Ymir dug around in her pockets for her cigarettes and lighter and lit up, exhaling white smoke into the air, blotting out the distant sunrise. It was times like these that she imagined she could be the only person in the world. So early the birds hadn’t woken up yet. The houses around her dark and empty. She exhaled again, the smoke burning her throat a little, shoulders hunched against the bite of cold.

She watched the sunrise for a while, bare toes curling in the dew-wet grass, mind jumping drunkenly from thought to thought, until she heard the door slide open behind her. She turned, and raised her cigarette in greeting as Jean stepped outside.

“Can’t sleep?” He asked softly, padding towards where she was sitting on the low wall that separated his patio from the garden. She nodded, and shuffled aside so he could sit down. “What’s up?” He asked, after lighting his own cigarette and turning to face her. Ymir shrugged.

“Mind’s a little busy.” She muttered, and laughed at her own understatement. “How about you? Shouldn’t you be sprawled over your little twink boyfriend already?”

Jean scoffed and punched her in the arm before ashing onto the ground between their feet and squinting up at the dawn sky. “You still miss her, huh?”

“Not in the same way.” Ymir said grudgingly. She wasn’t really in the mood to talk about it, especially since she’d mentally closed the book on that chapter on her life. “Put it this way: every morning I reach out expecting her to be lying next to me, and when I realise she’s not, I get up, and get on with my life.”

Jean nodded and hummed, staring off into the garden. Ymir cleared her throat and stubbed her cigarette out on the wall. Waking up to cold, empty sheets, a bed too big for one person. It wasn’t nice, but it was what was normal, now. It was subconscious, her yearning for Historia, her half-asleep mind still thinking she might be there. It didn’t upset her, really. It was just another fact of life. 

It’s easier with things to occupy her mind. Work, college, friends. Exam prep was doing a pretty good job at the moment, to say the least. Sometimes she’d visit the beach where she picked Historia up that time, sit on the cold sand and stare at her hands. Watch planes streak across the sky and hope that the salty fresh air she was breathing would reach Historia one day. It was comforting to think they looked at the same sun, the same moon. Things changed, but that would be forever constant.

“You’ll find someone else.” Jean murmured, crossing his arms against the cold, cigarette dangling between his fingers. “Someone who‘ll make you happy.”

“Maybe.” Ymir made a noncommittal noise and shrugged. “I don’t think I can make anyone happy, though.” She added quietly, face turned towards the sunrise. “I can’t even make me happy, sometimes. I don’t think I’m ready to try with anyone else yet.”

“You’re doing better, though.” Jean pointed out, and Ymir hummed and nodded. “You’ll be fine.” He said, bumping his shoulder against Ymir’s, and shooting her a tired smile when she turned her head.

“Girls suck.” She muttered, and leant her head on Jean’s shoulder. She felt rather than heard his low chuckle, and jabbed him in the side for laughing. “I’m pathetic.”

“Yeah, kind of.” Jean muttered, amused. Ymir jabbed him again, and he flinched and laughed, moving away from her. “Honestly, you’re a lot less pathetic than you were.”

“Thanks, I think.” Ymir muttered, and scrubbed her hand through her hair. It was growing out now, from the pixie cut she’d had and maintained just because she couldn’t be bothered with long hair. She remembered Historia’s comment about it and smiled to herself, drawing the shaggy chin length hair back from her face before letting it fall back into place.

“I’m gonna go inside.” Jean said, standing. “It’s freezing.”

“Lightweight.” Ymir shot back at him, and ducked to avoid the slap on the back of the head. She heard the screen door close behind her, and Ymir was alone again, the first few rays of sun warming her face and lighting the garden golden-tinted. 

She placed a hand over her chest, feeling for that steady pulse, that confirmation of life, and smiled to herself. The garden was coming to life around her, birds beginning to sing, the dew bright and wet and covering everything. It felt like a new start.

 _Maybe this isn’t so bad_ , she thought to herself, feeling her heart lift in something close to happiness. She thought of her friends, the dawn light bouncing off the dew. Maybe it was because she was still a little buzzed, maybe it was the strange liminal feeling of being the only person awake for miles, but for the first time in a long while, Ymir felt perfectly content with how her life was playing out. 

With a snort, she lit another cigarette and watched the sun rise over the tops of the trees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so like....that's it. this is so weird. there'll be an epilogue after this chapter but for all intents and purposes...this is where the story ends....
> 
> i'll save the big long 'holy shit i've been writing this since forever thank u everyone' for when i get around to posting the epilogue (hopefully it won't take too long i've got a vague idea of where i'm going with it) but yeah. 
> 
> thanks for reading?? hope this chapter isn't disappointing?? comments?? ok i'm gonna go start the epilogue...
> 
> oh and if u want to send me any questions/keep up with the last update my blog is girlshinji!


	19. epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this takes place maybe a year or so after the last chapter..

Ymir awoke to the sound of someone knocking on her door. A bleary glance at the clock told her it was too early to be awake, so she pulled her covers over her head and tried to block out the noise, hoping whoever was knocking would get the idea and fuck off.

Ten minutes later, she was wide awake, and the knocker was performing an uncanny rendition of Stairway To Heaven on her front door. With a sullen grunt, she tossed her covers off and stood, wobbling a little as the blood rushed to her head, before unlocking and throwing open her door.

“What.” She grunted to a stone-faced Annie, who just rolled her eyes and barged past with no explanation. Ymir sighed and rubbed at her face, closing the door behind her as she turned to slump back into her bed. “What’re you doing here this early.” She muttered into her pillow, feeling the mattress dip as Annie took a seat on the end. 

“I picked up your post for you.” Annie said, not answering her question but just dropping a pile of letters on her back. Ymir groaned and wiggled around until it fell off.

“Don’t care about the post.” Ymir mumbled, pulling herself into a sitting position and yawning. “What’re you going here.” She asked again, scowling. If there was one thing that hadn’t changed about Ymir these past years, and probably never would, was that she was _not_ a morning person.

Annie arched one eyebrow, managing to look intimidating in a baby pink hoodie and grey leggings. “I’m here to drag you out of your pit,” She punctuated that with a pointed look at the mess that was Ymir’s flat. “And try to get you to cover my shift for me, actually.” 

Ymir stared at her, frankly stunned at how unrepentant she sounded about trying to get Ymir to come in to work on one of her few free days every millennium. “What makes you think I’d do that?” She asked, mind still too fogged with sleep that the only expression she could come up with was a scowl. 

Annie shrugged and picked at her cuticles. “Because your days here are numbered before you go to seek your fortune in the big wide world and no doubt you won’t pass up the opportunity for some more money.” 

Okay, she had Ymir there. She groaned, covering her face with her hands. Annie seemed to take that for a yes, because she leant across to pat Ymir’s knee. “You’re a real friend.” She deadpanned.

“What are you even doing today that requires you being up this early but unable to work?” Ymir muttered, dropping her hands into her lap.

“Bert, Reiner and I are looking at houses.” Annie said matter-of-factly. “We’ve all finished our courses so we’ve gotta find a place of our own.” 

Ymir hummed, raising her eyebrows. “Scary.” She commented. Annie shrugged.

“Well, you’re off to London,” She said. “That’s scarier.”

Ymir made an uncomfortable noise and shrugged. She’d passed her art course with good enough grades to get into the university she’d wanted to go to, which she was happy about, especially since there was one point where she thought she’d fail it all completely. Now she was just dealing with the prospect of uprooting herself from her comfort zone, her job, her friends, and starting afresh in a new city. It seemed mildly terrifying, but she was convinced it would be for the best. Too many sour memories littered her apartment, the whole town, really. A new beginning sounded kind of…nice.

“It’ll all work out.” Was all she said, before standing and stretching. “So when’s your shift start?” She sighed, wandering over to the sink to poke at the dirty dishes, extracting the cleanest mug she could find and switching the kettle on. 

“Nine.” Annie said, leaning back on her hands and staring up at the ceiling. Ymir groaned and aggressively spooned another mound of coffee into her mug. She’d need it, especially since her insomnia had been acting up lately, leaving her falling asleep only in the early hours of the morning.

“I’m a saint for agreeing to this.” She reminded Annie, leaning back against the counter, bare toes curling against the cold lino. Annie rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, saint of the minimum wage workers.” She said dryly, before getting to her feet and smoothing her hair back off her face. “Can I get a cup of that?” She asked, pointing to the kettle. “Just before I go.” She added, and Ymir rolled her eyes, sighing long-sufferingly, before beginning her search for another semi-clean mug.

\--------------

Ymir found herself in a rush after Annie had left and she’d showered, stopping briefly to snatch the pile of post off her bed before jogging down to her car, keys and letters in hand. She looked through them as she waited for the engine to warm up, breath clouding in the cold air. 

The usual junk, a bank statement, a magazine that she stuffed in the glove box, and a letter addressed to her in a neat, round hand that she vaguely recognised. She stared at it for a moment, desperately trying to dredge up exactly _why_ she recognised it. She never received hand written letters. 

Catching a glimpse at the clock on the dashboard, she cursed and threw the post onto the passenger seat before setting out to the coffee shop, mind still mulling over the mystery letter. 

Her shift passed slowly, the shop oddly empty for a Tuesday morning, which left her too much free time to think. Levi was being his usual acerbic self, and the new girl, Mikasa something, who Ymir vaguely recognised from college, was largely uncommunicative and too busy trying to get to grips with the coffee machine to make any conversation. Ymir was _bored_ , and found her mind straying back to the letter in her car, that neat, round handwriting that tugged at some buried memory in her mind.

She cleaned tables to take her mind off it; scrubbing them down until Levi asked her if she was planning on leaving any table behind. She just scoffed, because like he was any better, and helped Mikasa out with the coffee machine, just to keep her hands busy. 

She’d quit smoking a few weeks ago, completely disillusioned with how gross it was (not to mention the impact on her wallet) and had replaced her addiction with coffee, which was at least less gross and generally free, as long as Levi wasn’t looking. But it now meant that she always had too much time on her hands and no excuse for popping out during her shifts to try and make the day go by quicker. This meant that by the end of her shift, she was twitching around the shop, bored and made restless by her mystery letter.

She barely spared either Mikasa or Levi a goodbye, and bumped into a customer on her way out. She bit back a rude remark about watching where they were going, and escaped to her car with her frozen, apologetic smile still in place.

The first thing she did was rip open the letter, then stare down at the seemingly innocuous piece of paper in her hand, heart thudding in her chest. An odd feeling of hope was rising in her, something she hadn’t really felt for a long time. She thought back to that night in Jean’s back garden, the dew between her toes, the pink streaked sky, and tightened her fingers on the letter.

The second thing Ymir did was drive two blocks to a corner store and buy a pack of cigarettes. She smoked one in her car, eyeing the letter distrustfully and grimacing at the taste. She felt bad for smoking, but honestly she’d never needed a smoke more than she did right then. A strange mix of excitement and trepidation was fluttering in her stomach, and she stubbed the butt out into the car ashtray and lit another before reaching for the now slightly crumpled letter.

Her heart squeezing in her chest, she flicked the letter open with one hand, taking a drag off her cigarette with the other as she scanned the first few lines of the letter. She pressed it to her chest, stared at the steering wheel for a minute, and then continued reading.

It was short. It was to the point. It was signed _’hope you’re doing okay, Historia’_ at the end. Ymir finished her second cigarette in the time it took her to read through it two more times, and stubbed it out slowly as she tried to process her exact emotions regarding it.

It was…nice. A nice letter. Nothing to get her hopes up, no trace of Historia expecting anything back from her. She’d even written, _’no pressure writing back! Just wanted to let you know you’ve been on my mind’_. That neat handwriting that Ymir recognised from grocery lists, little notes that Ymir found in this car months after Historia had left. _She’d been thinking of her_. Ymir wasn’t sure what to think.

She wasn’t sad, which was the most important thing. She wasn’t bitter, she wasn’t pissed off, she wasn’t upset. She was just…content. Maybe it was the natural progression of things. She hadn’t had contact with Historia for well over a year now, but maybe that was the cooling off period they’d needed. Like she’d said, there was nothing _expectant_ about the letter, nothing like Historia was hoping for anything more than friendship, if that. She skim read the letter again. No, it was just someone checking in on someone who’d been important to them, picking communication back up. If there was anything Ymir could blame their failure of a relationship on it was the communication breakdown between them.

She drove home slow, mind ticking with this new information. The letter was tucked into the inside pocket of her jacket and every so often she touched it, just to made sure she hadn’t dreamt it all up. She definitely hadn’t been expecting _this_ when Annie had dropped her post on her that morning.

She read it again when she got home, curled up on the sofa with a cup of coffee and a cigarette burning down between her fingers. Titan jumped next to her, purring and rubbing himself against her side, and she showed him the letter with a smile. “Look, she asked if you were still around.” She murmured, rolling her eyes when the cat meowed dumbly and butted his head against her arm. 

Historia was enjoying her degree, apparently. Had met some cool people, travelled around. Things were better between her and her father, and Hanji was loving the American weather. She asked after Ymir, her car, the cat. Very light, simple conversation. Ymir wondered how she’d changed before banishing the thought from her mind. She’d promised herself never to start brooding over Historia again, not if she could help it.

She finished her coffee, wandered down to the takeaway for some food and ate it watching America’s Next Top Model, mind constantly preoccupied by the letter, and whether to write back or not.

She supposed it couldn’t do any harm. It’s not like she didn’t still want to know Historia, or even try and get back to how they once were. It would take a lot of time, but maybe writing would be the first step to getting back on track. She’d changed a lot, and Historia probably had as well, but it was a good change, a change she’d needed. She’d like to be friends with her again, Ymi realised, a strange sort of ache in her chest. She’d really love to be friends with Historia again.

She stood, dumping her plate in the sink as she went to go fetch a notebook and a pen, and sat back down on the sofa, chewing her pen, trying to think of what to say. A sudden flash of inspiration made her smile, and she bent her head over the paper as she began to scrawl out what she hoped would bring them close again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok first i'd like to apologise for the huge wait between the last chapter and this...i've been busy with other stuff and got accepted into uni so life has been kinda hectic recently..
> 
> but like. whoa. this is it. it's so surreal that this is finished now...i started writing this in november so fuck that's like...nine months...holy shit. it's so weird to look at the first chapters vs the last chapter and see how much i've developed (thank god) when i started uploading it here i didn't even think it would get a lot of attention AT ALL...so i'm blown away by the positive reception it's gotten like thank you so much to everyone who's left kudos or comments or even just followed this for all this time...it's the longest thing i've ever written and i'm so happy at the reception it's gotten thank u so much...
> 
> i don't know what else to say??? i hope you've enjoyed reading this?? i hope this epilogue was good enough...i wanted to leave an open kind of ending to preserve the realism idk...
> 
> if you want to send me messages or any prompts for fic in this verse (which i'd love to write btw!) my tumblr's girlshinji and my twitter is neckworu bc i'm on it a lot more idk...
> 
> anyway thank you?? sorry?? love u all


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